


Smokescreen

by RoyalElfroot



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bad Romance, Blackwall Smut, Blackwall Spoilers, Blackwall romance, Circle Mage - Freeform, Dragon Age - Freeform, Dragon Age Romance, Dragon Slayers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I just want to write stuff, I work hard ok, I'm Bad At Tagging, Inquisition, Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, Inquisitor Backstory, Inquisitor and Vivienne friendship, Knight Enchanter, Mage Rights, Mage Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Shameless Smut, Smut, Soft core smut, Thedas, Violence smut, dragon slaying, fire mage, ill add more tags later, slow burn smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 08:28:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyalElfroot/pseuds/RoyalElfroot
Summary: What can one Grey Warden do?Lady Lana Trevelyan meets one Warden in a sea of chaos and expectations.They try to weather the storm.





	1. The Fire Mage and The Lone Warden

**Author's Note:**

> This part is wordy, but after this it will get better. Just gotta set it all up.  
> I stick to the quest line as close as I'd care to, and use game dialogue whenever I want. You know how eccentrics can be.  
> 

Lana Trevelyan heard the whispers around Haven. They trailed after her, chasing her shadow and almost so quiet they were lost in the sharp winter wind. But she heard them.  
“The Fire Mage” they hissed; “The Dragon of Ostwick.” Of the many titles she had gained and shed over the years, those two were her least favorite. Like she was the first mage in history to throw fire at her problems…and have it go a little bit sideways.  
She longed to turn and smile at the whisperers, and correct them: “It’s the Herald of Andraste now, remeber?” but she had every intention of crushing her past in her current work. She woud patch the hole in the sky, save the world, and everyone from Thedas back to the Free Marches would forget all about one measly fire. The fear of mages like her would slip away, and, who knows? Maybe she would get her title back. Maybe she could go home.  
But for now, The mark churning like a caged beast in her palm was keeping her rather busy. She was young; of course some said too young, but what she lacked in wisdom, she more than made up for in zeal.  
Her features, although fine, had been described both as proud, and as haughty. Both were correct. She wore the stamp of her familial house; from her mother’s large, almost cat-like eyes tinted in unmistakable Trevelyan green, to her Father’s pouted lips, quite well. Her skin was of porcelain, and her hair a mane of deep brown waves that she bound in a braided knot at the back of her skull to keep it out of the way.. Orlesians had to put on their elaborate masks, but Lana had been born with hers on. No mater how shaken she felt, she could always don the appearance of complete confidence and stride forward with grace.  
This gray, chilly, morning, she walked with purpose towards the Chantry and Josephine’s summons; her perfect posture the most base of instincts she possessed. Shoulders square, hips forward, chin up, eyes lidded; it was all ingrained in her muscle memory and gave an alarmingly stark contrast to her rough leathers and long worn coat.  
The outward appearance of an apostate mage coupled with her regal carriage sent those still wary of her well out of her path.  
But not everyone was so stand-offish.  
Varric, somehow cheerful, even if seep still hung in his eyes offered her a small wave from his campsite. “Good morning, Princess. My my, aren’t we in a hurry. Spare a moment to join me?” 

“Princess?” Lana knew of Varric’s penchant for nicknames, and secretly swelled with joy to have finally recieved one. She and Varric had bonded quickly; but anyone who fought demons together was prone to becoming fast friends. “Well, good morning to you as well,Master Tethras; but I think I am closer to an Archduchess than a princess.”

“But Archduchess? That sounds like I’m being polite. We both know I can’t have that.” Varric smirked coyly, offering her a metal mug of something steaming. She accepted, and took a tentative sip. Antivan coffee. Was this what having friends was like? She liked having friends.  
“I guess that would be a travesty.” Lana spoke around the brim of her mug, eager for the warm drink to chase the chill out of her bones. “I’ll allow Princess.”  
“This is new for me.” The dashing rogue Dwarf’s smirk turned to a full smile. “Nobody has ever consented to a nickname before.”  
“There is a hole in the sky, and the Maker sent a mage to fix it. Get used to weird things. Andraste’s tits, we’re doomed for more of them. I should be off. Thank you for this.” She gestured to the mug, and turned to go.  
“One sec. Hate to ask for a favor, but do you think you could…” Varric made a wild hand gesture at a pile of kindling that rested in the usual location of a campfire “…lend me your talents?”  
“In repayment for this coffee, I’d gladly light a few candles, too.” Lana pushed the heel of one hand directly towards the kindling, and closed her eyes for a moment, guiding some of the hot energy that writhed in her belly outward.  
The kindling caught with a hiss.  
A few hushed sounds of alarm rippled around them. But, the two chose to ignore it. Magic was nothing new to either of them, and striking kindling was probably the tamest use of power both of them had ever witnessed.  
“Thank you, Herald. I’ve distracted you for long enough.”  
“I look forward to the next time you need a campfire started.” She lifted the mug in farewell, continuing through Haven to the large Chantry doors, eavesdropping happily as she went. The two young women who met near the door to gossip had quite a bit to say about The Iron Bull. It kept the smile on Lana’s face. She would have to ask the big Qunari how his evening went.  
She eased the massive door open, and slipped inside.  
It was warmer inside the Chantry; the heavy rugs and draped banners banished the chill. A Chantry sister was busy lighting the myriad of candles, which would only serve to fill the room with more warmth as well as dancing shadows. In here, one could almost forget about the Breach.  
When Lana had first come to Haven, when the shackles of her latest imprisonment had been removed, she had spent as much time as possible indoors, hiding from that big hole in the sky. Thinking back on it, on how scared she had been…it seemed like a thousand years ago.  
It took a sharp strike from a certain Orlesian circle mage to alter her perspective.  
Madame Vivienne de Fer herself met Lana at the door of where Josephine’s study. She raised one impeccible eyebrow.  
“Good morning, darling. I’m glad to see you in such lifted spirits.” Vivienne purred.  
Naturally, at first, Lana had known Vivienne was playing The Game with her. Joining the inquisition was just a move on a chessboard, and Lana had been just another piece. They had seemed so different; as alike as Fire and Ice, but in battle the two mages cast together as though they were dancing. From there, they found more common ground.  
A mutual respect, slowly growing.  
“Good morning to you, First Enchanter.”  
“Don’t be so formal, my dear.” Vivienne placed a hand on her hip, watching Lana through lidded eyes. “ You seem busy. Come find me when you’re ready to head out to work.”  
“Of course, Madam de Fer.”  
Vivienne pulling on the reins to head into the field made Lana eager to do the same. As she rapped on Josephine’s door, she hoped the ambassador would not keep her long.  
“Come in!” came a sing-song reply. Lana did just so, finding the room bright and warm, a cheerful fire in the hearth. Josephine was at her desk, quill raised, stacks of papers arranged tidly around her. In her element. Her big, dark, eyes leveled on Lana.  
“I do apologize for the early hour, Lady Trevelyan. There is a lot to do, but before I begin, I wanted to ask you a rather strange question.”  
“My definition of strange has shifted drastically in a short period of time, but please, ask away.”  
“It is about your Noble family.”�”House Trevelyan?”  
“The very one!” Josephine beamed.“I wanted to contact them not only to assure them of your safety, but also to request aide. What are your thoughts? Would the noble house of the Herald come to her cause?”  
“Oh…” Lana paused to consider. “…“I haven’t spoken to that lot since The Circle took me. At best, they may be tantalized by the potential political leverage…but more likely they will send some polite drivel in acknowledgment, but not of support.”  
She had been 10 when the Templars came. A young girl with a proud father, loving mother, and a red pony. Her memories of then were faded, but precious.  
“Would it be wiser to let them come to us?” Josephine twirled her quill thoughtfully.  
“I should think so. My reputation with…the rebellion of the Ostwick circle may make them slow in sending us letters.” Lana had almost said ‘liberation’. “They were rather involved with that particular establishment.”�”Ah, yes.” Josephine cracked a small, knowing smile. “I had heard there was a fire.”  
“That was an accident. We mostly just…walked away.I’ll never forget it. Circles fell in pools of blood, but the Ostwick Templars just looked the other way. We were gentle, as far as mages went- by the maker we were mostly healers! the order had plucked half our Templar staff to hunt apostates. Those who remained, simply didn’t rise to stop us one day; the same day we realized they were dangerously outnumbered. The fire was a fluke. The rune I wrote to blast the door. I was in a hurry; even without immediate Templar threat we wanted to be gone. One wrong stroke… That was all it took.” Lana turned her gaze away, arms crossing over her midsection. “A Circle tower burned to the ground that night.”  
And the Dragon of Ostwick took flight. There had been rumors of Templars trapped inside, roasted in their own armor. Lana swore she had seen them abandon the tower when the fire had become too large. She clung desperately to that memory.  
“Do you ever miss it?” Josephine leaned closer in her eat, elbows on the desk, rapt.  
“Oh Maker, no!” Lana looked back to Josephine.”I was educated, but so naive. I convinced myself I was smitten with one of the templars.”  
“How romantic!” Josephne gasped.  
“She didn’t know I existed. She was so serious, but lovely.”.  
Oh, did Lana remember Eva. She had worn her duty and strength about her like a fine silk gown…  
A knock sounded at the door. The lightness of the conversation evaporated as a scout peeked in. “Pardon me, Lady Ambassador, your guest from Val Royeux is waiting for you.”  
“Oh, Lady Herald, would you do me the courtesy of continuing this conversation at a later date? I do thank you for your opinion.” Josephine rose, straightening her dress, fixing her already perfect hair in a small mirror.  
“But of course, Lady Montilyet.”  
“Oh! I almost forgot!” Josephine dove back into the parchment, and passed one piece to Lana. “Leliana’s report. While investigating the appearance of the Gray Wardens, she acquired information about a lone warden recently sighted. She suggests finding him, and asking him a few questions.”  
Lana could have cheered. The perfect excuse to stretch her legs a little. She accepted the report.  
“Gladly, Josephine. I’ll head out now.”

 

Several hours later, Lana, Bull, Varric, and Vivienne were well into the Hinterlands, picking thier way past the Upper Lake camp. The trail was scarred by marks of battle, but the crossroads had been bustling- a recent development that made Lana’s heart swell. The first signs of things coming back to normal she had seen. Lana was reviewing her map; they were close to the area this Warden had been last sighted in. Trees pressed close, sheltering climbing elfroot. The air smelt of the nearby lake and the heady perfume of blood lotus blossoms.  
“So, Boss.” Bull hoisted both his and Vivienne’s packs higher onto his back. “Why do we care about one Gray Warden?”  
“Great question, Bull.” Lana looked up from the map to mind her fitting through the rocks. “ I think the answer is that the only thing weirder than all of the wardens going missing, must be finding only one. I’m hopeful this one can help us answer some of The Inquisition’s questions.”  
“Do you have a plan, my dear?” Vivienne came up alongside Lana, taking the map from her hands gently, and pointing across the lake that had come into view. “As I believe we have arrived.”  
A dock lead out across glossy water; it was old, and looked about as trustworthy as an envy demon, but the small cabin it lead to had a group of four armed men. Lana shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun off the water to get a clearer view.  
“Yes, I’m working on one… so far, it consists of crossing this dock-” she stepped onto the wood. It creaked in protest, but held. “- and asking those men if they can help us.”  
“Simple. I like it.” Vivienne pulled the straps holding her staff to her back tighter, and followed Lana.  
As they drew closer, Lana took in the scene; an armored man, who by his dress was clearly the Warden in question, was drilling with 3 very young men in sword and shield. She raised her chin, squared her shoulders, and cleared her throat, remembering the name Leliana’s report had given her:  
“Blackwall?” She strode forward, gait open and confident. ”Warden Blackwall?”  
The Warden went rigid, standing upright and coming towards Lana quickly, sword and shield raised, meeting her before her companions could get close enough to cover her. She got a true look at him then; his rough features cast of pale stone softened by shining black hair and a full beard as glossy as a Raven’s back. Instantly, their eyes locked. Hers, large and startled, his sharp and cold. Her world shrank into that instant.  
“how do you know my name?” He demanded, lethally serious. “Who are-” Before he could get his question out, a flash of alarm broke his hard glare away from her. His shield swung up, his arm thrown around Lana.  
She was distantly aware of the sound of arrows hitting wood and of Varric’s distant call of: “bandits!” as she leaned into Blackwall’s hard chest; as spellbound as any maiden.  
Blackwall, however, was not as charmed. The warden withdrew his ‘embrace’ and addressed his men, calling for them to stand and fight, before pulling Lana back to reality by turning her towards him by the shoulder. “- and you!” He barked before turning to head into the fray. “Help or get out!”  
She blinked, feeling arrows snap past her, and cursing under her breath. One arm swung back for her staff, while the other formed a claw gesture, palm up, grabbing the air, and lifting. She inhaled deep, pushing her energy into her exhale. A wall of wild flames burst around them, plunging the battlefield into a chaos of smoke and one man’s screams. One of the archers was standing in simply the worst spot and found himself one with the fire.  
The destructive force of such raw magic instantly changed the game. It corralled the now petrified bandits, freeing Lana and Vivienne to cast barriers over their allies. Fighting alongside Lana was having chaos itself in the line next to you. She threw fire from both her staff and her hands; her whole body moving with the effort. She crested on the high freely casting gave her; soul alight with the bliss of her own magic. As the skirmish wound down, she pushed her staff before her and scanned the scene. The Bandits were down, her companions seemed fine…and Warden Blackwall was watching her. Had been watching her, judging from how quickly he averted his attention at being caught. Her stomach tightened, and she let herself have a private smile.  
�Warden Blackwall spoke with his conscripts, sending them away, before turning back on Lana, now smeared with soot and with his boots singed. “As I was saying, How do you know my name?”  
“I am an Agent of the Inquisition.” Lana fell into her perfectly postured stance, burying the fact she was writhing under his intense gaze under several layers of confidence and starch manners. “I was dispatched to speak with you regarding the disappearance of your fellow Gray Wardens and the death of the Divine. You’re the first and only Warden we have been able to track down. Did the Wardens have any part in what happened at the conclave?”  
“You’re asking, so you must not really know.” Blackwall crossed his thick arms across his broad chest “And you think I know what’s going on.”  
“I’m just here for information.” Lana raised one eyebrow, watching him closely. “and we can start with: Where have the Wardens gone?”  
Blackwall shook his head. “I don’t know. Weisshaupt would be my first guess.I have no idea why they would all disappear at once, let alone where they would disappear to. My orders were to recruit on my own, and that is exactly what I have been doing.”  
“How horribly uneventful.” Vivienne sighed dramatically.  
“she has a point.” Lana agreed, cocking her head to one side. She remembered the feeling of being under his cold, gray, eyes and took a risk. “If you cannot help my cause…then where does that leave us?”  
“You said you were an agent of the inquisition? With everything that’s going on…maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me.”  
“What can one Gray Warden do?”  
“Save the fucking world if pressed.”  
The tightness in Lana’s belly released into a flurry of butterflies. Somehow, they never reached the surface. She held her composure, as well as the steadyness in her voice, through sheer force of will. “Warden Blackwall, The Inquisition accepts your offer.”  
Something in Blackwall shifted, then. The guarded intensity dropped, revealing a dashing half-smile. “Perhaps I’ve been keeping to myself for too long.”


	2. Of Dawn and Drinking Songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's only a lady in theory, and a mage in practice. The spells cast are not always her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always imagine Lana outwardly being so regal...but inwardly everything is on fire...and why are we crying?

The whole trek home from Lake Luthias Vivienne had scolded her…Apparently it had been very obvious that she had gotten…caught up in the moment with Warden Blackwall.

“Darling, You could have died.” There was a dark, irate, tone to the enchanter’s voice.

“He had a sheild.” Lana clenched her jaw, eyes glaring dead ahead.

Bull’s barking laughter sounded from behind them.

“Butt out, Bull!” Lana snarled, shoulders tightening.

“I can’t say I blame the Herald, ma’am!” Bull did not butt out. “He is quite a hot piece of ass!”

Lana actually smelt smoke. Her cheeks flared red. She knew the best course of action was to keep her mouth shut. Nothing that came out would be kind.

“Our opinions on the Warden aside.” Vivienne continued coolly. “What if his intention had been to harm you? I know you’ve been…courting about Haven, but maybe keep it within our allies, my dear?”

Oh yes, Lana definitely smelt smoke. “I get it.” She hissed, unappreciative of having her nose rubbed in what had been playful flirtations.

“Maybe we should ease up on the Herald?” Varric suggested flatly, not looking up from the rocky trail. He had to take two steps for every one his companions did, and the footing here could be rough. “before she…anyway. Let’s ease up.”

“Before she starts a fire.” Lana finished for him, voice as sharp as a silverite dagger. The anger that had been sending her temperature up dissipating. Did they really expect that of her? That she would either lose all control of her magic when she got upset…or worse, purposely lash out? She was The Dragon of Ostwick, after all. Dragons did have foul tempers.

There was a long stretch of silence after that; only the growing winds howling between the four of them. A soft snow began to fall, and only has the scenery began to change into the craggy rocks and frigid rivers of Haven did anyone dare to break it.

“Well, How about drinks are on me?” Bull asked, as though they had not just suffered the most awkward silence in the history of Thedas. “When we get back into Haven. Varric? Viv? Lana?”

She did perk at the sound of her name. Nobody called her by her name. It was always titles, titles, titles. Lady this, and Herald that. Her heart felt a pang of guilt, then. Guilt that ale could erode.

“...you know what? Yes.” She slowed her step, falling back into the group.

Vivienne politely declined, and Varric happily agreed. The three of them resumed chatting amiably, and Lana half-listened, letting her mind wander.

It went back to that moment, as the fight had finished and the smoke began to curl away; as Warden Blackwall had appeared from the haze. His silver eyes on her, drinking her in from afar, making her skin prickle. His sword was lowered, his stance at ease, a blooded warrior on the field of battle…but he only wished to look at her. How long had he been watching her cast? Watching her create fire, chaos, and death? There had been no disgust or fear in his face, but almost a somber awe.

She closed her eyes as she walked, hands gripping the straps of her pack, trying to recall more and playing their words back and forth in her head. She hadn’t seen him fight, the smoke had been to thick, she would have to watch him-

“-Herald? Hello? Hey, Princess!” Varric nudged her thigh, snapping her out of her reverie. They were at the gates of Haven. She had stopped walking, and was just pointing her nose up into the gray sky. “Are you ok?”

“Oh, yes, Thank you Varric, I was just thinking…” She let her words trail off.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Princess.” The dwarf assured her. “Come on. It looks like the snow is going to get serious…and we had better get to the tavern before Tiny over there reascends his offer or drinks all the booze himself.”

“Lead the way and pour the ale, my friend.”

 

Lana avoided Warden Blackwall at all costs after that. He settled into Haven quickly, taking up residence in the cabin just outside the walls; blissfully far from her small house. She waited until he was inside to sneak to the horse yard and tend to her mount or speak with Harritt about her gear, and was careful to peek in the tavern window before coming in. She must have looked so foolish, but if it meant she was keeping her head on properly, then appearances be damned.

Whenever her mind went quiet, it brought her back to that smokey place, that frozen moment, until she set it to a different task.

As much as it annoyed her, Vivienne was right. She had acted foolishly at Lake Luthias; she was a leader now. A dallyance would be inappropriate and unwise. She ceased all her coy comments when sober, only letting them slide out after her tongue had been made more slick in the tavern…where comments like that belonged. Lana had to pull herself together.

This was a crush. She just had to stay away until it died down. Candles and wildfires both eventually burned out…so would this.

Then why did she hear his words whisper in her head: “Maybe you need me”?

 

Lana woke purposely before dawn after two weeks of dodging Warden Blackwall. This had become her secret routine. She would wake when only the stars lit haven, and scamper down to the horse yard to tend to her mount herself before the rest of the world began the day at sunrise. She dressed quickly, running a comb through her hair before roping it up and letting herself out into the dark.

As she exited the gates and rounded the corner, a few horses looked up to greet her, ears erect. Lana delighted in the horses. Their musky smell and warm flanks conjured memories of her childhood pony. They didn’t require conversation; in fact, they preferred accepting her adoration in silence. The perfect companions. Loyal, strong, and uninterested in starting rumors.

She opened the gate, going directly to her favorite; a blood bay gelding she called Rowan.

“Hello, my strong beast.” She whispered to the bay, slipping a rope halter onto him. “Come with me?”

Rowan allowed himself to be lead from the corral and hitched to the fence, knowing the thorough brushing that followed would be well worth it.

As Lana worked over his coat, swiping the brush until he glowed, she hummed a drinking song Sera had tried to teach her the night before. The lyrics had been bawdy and she had been drunk. Only the tune remained to her now. But it was catchy which was perfect for losing herself in her task.

It took her a shameful amount of time to realize someone was humming along. When she finally heard it, she froze. The dagger in her belt seemed to grow warm against her belly.

She looked over Rowan’s back in the direction of her unexpected company.

Warden Blackwall met her eyes.

Only then did Lana realize the dagger had seemed to heat up because her hand was hovering over it. She dropped it away. “I apologize. You startled me.”

“No need to apologize, my lady. I snuck up on you.” Warden Blackwall stayed back, but kept his eyes on her. His expression was soft, almost sad. “I haven’t seen much of you, Herald. I was hoping to have a moment of your time.”

All of her hard work the past two weeks had gone up in smoke. Yet, she found herself drawn to him. Eager to talk with him. She had heard that he was wary of magic and borderline scared of mages; even now he seemed somewhat guarded. She felt a small pit of dread in her gut. Had avoiding him been wrong? Was he telling her he was leaving?

“You may have it.” she brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand and straightened into her ladylike carriage. “What can I do for you, Warden?”

“Well…” Blackwall gathered his thoughts, looking off into the gathering light of dawn before back to Lana. “…The Breach, the Divine’s death, the Wardens…It doesn’t make much sense. There’s so much we don’t know.”

“All we can do is keep seeking answers.” Lana let her stance relax. She eased some of her noble upbringing out of her spine. “Keep closing rifts. Keep helping people. Eventually, I think we will figure it all out.”

Blackwall moved closer,closing the ground between them to stroke Rowan’s muzzle. “Just one question then. How do you think you fit in with all this?”

Of course, this query wasn’t new to Lana. Each ally she had gained had posed it to her in one way or another.There was just something in this Warden that gave her the sense he was waiting. That her answer would either open a door, or close it forever.

“I want peace.” she answered nearly without thinking. It was true. The desire for peace eclipsed even her fantasy of truly returning to House Trevelyan. Before she could stop herself, before she could even realize what she was doing, she gave into the urge she had been fighting back from the moment she found herself behind Blackwall’s sheild further closing the gap between them. She caught Blackwall’s hand where he still stroked Rowan. “Is that foolish of me? I see a torn up world, and I’m finally in the position to mend it. When the smoke clears, all I want is peace.”

He didn’t resist. The door had opened. The intensity of a predatory animal that usually radiated from him vanished. His guarded posture melted. This time, when they locked gazes, she saw the same look of delicately complex awe he had watched her with after dispatching the bandits.

“You’re strangely charming.” Lana breathed, suddenly defenseless.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a compliment from a lady.” Blackwall pulled their clasped hands to his lips, and gave hers the lightest kiss. He wasn’t going anywhere.


	3. We Need A Tailor For the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We always want more. More booze, more sex, more fire, more blood. Less goodbyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like all of my chapter titles could be fall out boy songs.

Now, Lana did everything she could to be in sight of Blackwall. The deal had been broken, and she longed to be close to him; to feel his strength beside her in battle and to sit with him in the tavern. They trained in the yard together, the Warden instructing the mage in better using both her belt dagger and the sharp knife at the end of her staff . Together, they found Gray Warden relics that Blackwall seemed to cherish Whenever they found one he would wait until they had a moment out of sight of the group, slip his arm around her waist, and pull her into him to kiss behind her ear. The whole gesture was as swift as a heartbeat, but it broke Lana’s dignified resolve for the rest of the day. She flourished under his attention. He seemed to come alive under hers. At night, whether at the mouth of a tent or her house in Haven, Blackwall always bid her goodnight. The picture of chivalry, he dropped to one knee, took her hand, and kissed it; breathing a tender “My Lady” against the skin. It made Lana well with both joy and longing for more. No matter how often she went to sleep still covered in black demon blood, her new life was tinged with bliss.

 

When Lana had brought home the mage rebellion, several sour memories, and one sharp-witted Tevinter mage, Blackwall at first was displeased. Very displeased. The mages made him clearly uncomfortable, especially Dorian. The two fought like cats and dogs whenever Lana asked them both to head out with her. They threw barely concealed jabs at each other whenever the oppertunity arose. Even in one fight Dorian had “slipped” with a static spell meant for an especially nasty lesser terror. The electric surge hit Blackwall’s sword, sending sharp currents down the blade, stunning the Warden and knocking him to the ground.

Unfortunately for Dorian, the terror had then turned on him, all gnashing teeth and swinging claws. It had taken a blasting fire rune from Lana to knock the terror back while Blackwall found his feet to finish it. The day had almost ended very poorly.

She had since stopped taking them together anywhere at all. Dorian seemed unoffended. He greeted Lana in the tavern enthusiastically after every mission and ignored the brooding Warden that accompanied her completely. Her friendship with Dorian had seemed to sting the Warden…if only she could explain, truly, what had happened in that other time. She had seen Blackwall, riddled with red lyrium, sacrifice himself. She had felt that weight in her heart like a great hand had seized it and squeezed…and Dorian had brought her back, To this Blackwall. To give her another chance. She both loved and owed the Tevinter for that. Even if this Blackwall couldn’t understand completely, Lana was determined to seize her second chance.

 

So, early one morning, Lana rapped on Blackwall’s cabin door. She held the reins of two fully saddled horses. When the Warden opened the rough wooden door she held out the reins of one mount.

“Care to join me, Warden Blackwall?”

His hair was unkempt, and dark circles rung his eyes. Nonetheless he smiled softly into his beard at the sight of her. Lana cherished his smiles- however small, however fleeting.

“I would be honored. Give me one moment.” He turned from her then, going into his little cabin and fetching his sword belt, a heavy outer coat, and gloves. Candles burned low, stubby little nubs clinging to life. Lana wondered if he had slept at all. In a sweeping gesture she extinguished the candles all at once.

“Thank you for that.” Blackwall had grown accustomed to her small fire tricks. He had used to jump every time she started a campfire or sent a hearth bursting to life. The bigger tricks; the runes, walls, and jets of flame she summoned in battle, however were always met far more willingly. He had never jumped at those- merely responded. He shut the door behind him, and accepted the reins she offered.

She guided her mount, rowan of course, further away tossing the reins over his head. Blackwall followed, politely holding Rowan by the bridle so Lana could mount before following suit himself.

“Where too?” he asked, finding his sturrips.

“Anywhere.” she turned Rowan towards the closest trail; The one that wound past the frozen lake and the breach. “I needed some fresh air. I figured you did, as well.”

Blackwall kept his horse alongside hers. “You figured correctly,my lady.” His gaze went up to the vivid green hole in the sky. The breach flickered, a lighting storm churning within it.

“I know. It looks so close.” Lana kept her gaze on him instead of on the Breach. She tried not to look at it as of late; all of her hard work was going towards trying close it…and now she was on the brink of the attempt. It had become so real; both the potential victory…and the possible failure. She would now have to approach the thing and try to seal it. A chill danced up her spine.

“I will stand with you.” Blackwall seemed to have read her mind. “When you close it. I want to stand with you. To be there for your victory.”

“As though I wanted anyone else to watch my back.” Lana pushed thoughts of failure from her mind. “I could walk into battle confidently with just you at my side.”

Blackwall chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Im flattered, my lady, but if that were true the whole of the mage rebellion wouldn’t be camped at Haven right now.” his words held no contempt, only a gentle humor.

“Everyone still seems so suprised that the apostate mage chose an alliance with her fellow apostates.” Lana emphasized her words with playful sarcasm.

“I’ll admit, at first I was wary of the idea.” Blackwall was smiling at her in full. “But when you say it that way, it does make sense.”

“I should be able to pull on their power.” Lana shrugged delicately. The trail rounded away from the breach and she felt like she could breathe again. Like it’s weight had shifted off of her shoulders for a time. “I will need all the help I can get. It’s bigger than any rift we’ve encountered. The last time I stood near it, it spat out pride demons…Maker’s balls,the more barriers the better, right?”

“I can’t argue with that. I’ve said many a toast to a mage’s barrier as of late.”

“Speaking of toasts…” Lana turned in the saddle, dropping her reins and trusting Rowan to follow the trail while she rummaged in her saddle bags. She produced a bottle of wine. “I brought libations.”

Blackwall actually laughed then, brimming with the sound. “Well! Pass it over here!”

Lana pried it open, taking a swig before handing the bottle over. “I’m sorry about Dorian.”

“Is that what this ride is about? That prissy mage?” Blackwall drank from the bottle, and passed it back to Lana.

“No.” Lana drank a little deeper, letting the wine roll down her throat and warm her belly. “But it has to be said. What he and I saw in that other future was harrowing. We went through a special hell together…but he’s been completely asinine in how he treats you. I don’t want you to think I’ve allowed it. I’ve spoken with him.”

“I’ll admit, the shit with the lightning was…well…I almost chopped his arms off when I got back up…but in the long run, He fights like he means it. He’s loyal to the inquisition. He’s loyal to you.That’s all that matters. ” The Warden took the bottle from her, and drank. “But I do thank you, regardless.”

“You’re too good to me.”

Blackwall’s demeanor shifted. “No, my lady…It is I who am unworthy of you.”

The change had seemed so sudden to Lana. Blackwall had gone from laughing and happy, to alarmingly serious in an instant. She pushed the bottle back into his hands, grinning playfully. “I’m not a lady anymore. There’s no dowry You don’t have to impress me.”

“You’re the most incredible woman I have ever met.” He locked eyes with her, pulling his horse ahead to stop Rowan. “You’ve made time to help me retrieve the Warden artifacts…you’ve saved so many people. So many refuees. You’ve sealed countless rifts. You’re a warrior and a healer. You’re-”

 

The wine made Lana bold. As Blackwall spoke, she pulled Rowan around close enough to grab Blackwall’s jaw with both hands. Leaning out of her saddle, she pulled him into a deep kiss- a real kiss- interrupting him. At first, the warden’s body was rigid, but he gave in with a shudder and Lana felt one gloved hand on the back of her head. Thankfully, neither horse shied, as Lana parted her lips to allow his tongue in between them.

It felt so right. Her blood sang in her as she tasted his mouth, her fingers in his hair. Even as they kissed, her mind rushed ahead to pulling them both off of the horses and having even more of the Warden. To truly know his whole body, to give over her entire self to pleasure and passion …before she had to face the rift…and possibly die. Possibly still bring the future she and Dorian had seen to fruition. To have one wild romp with Warden Blackwall before she tried to mend the sky.

He drew away long before she wanted to, leaving her panting softly. She searched his face for any indicator that he, too, may want to strip down in the snow; but all she saw was a look of awe and adoration.

“You…you are incredible.” He repeated, stroking her cheek with the back of a gloved hand. This time the emphasis on ‘incredible’ broke Lana in the best way. Yes, he was not going to let the moment escalate…but maybe it didn’t need to.

There would be time for that. After she sealed the breach. After the worst of a chaos was over, she could find herself lost in him again over and over.

She just had to patch up one measly hole in the sky.

 

 

Blood, smoke, and snow. Lana’s whole world had become blood, smoke and snow. Screams blended together; screams of terror, pain, and battle all became one noise; the tormented music of Haven’s collapse.

There was so much fire. Not all of it was Lana’s, for once…and she also wasn’t the only dragon. As she ran behind her allies, pulling as many people from the rubble as she could, she was all to aware of the beat of leathery wings. The true dragon that blasted the mountainside and roared death down upon them.

“Go! The Chantry!” Lana lent her croaking scream to the chaos, choked by smoke for the first time in her life. She shoved people forward, hauling them to their feet, anything to get them running. The moment she felt a surge in her mana, she cast the biggest barrier she could over her people, trying not to watch debris and flames ricochet off of it. They just needed to get to the Chantry.

A pack of Ravenous Red Templars ran towards them. Lana swung her staff, sending a blasting wall of even more fire up to block their path. Usually, she would never use such a spell in anything resembling a villiage…but Haven was too far gone, and none of her companions could stop and fight. The refuees would be defenseless. Everyone had fought themselves to near exhaustion as it was.

She saw Blackwall’s head jerk back in the direction of fire. Saw him frantically search for her, the look of fear everyone else wore flashing across his face. They locked eyes, and he seemed to take a breath, but the fear did not abate. Her companions stopped, ushering the refugees into the Chantry. So close.

Then, the wind shifted. The Dragon blasted nearby with fire. Billowing smoke blocked Blackwall, Viv, and Cass from veiw; blacker than a pit into the deep roads. Lana was alone snd blinded. Her lungs burned and her eyes watered as she stumbled, falling to her hands and knees.

Then, there it was. Out of nowhere the haze lifted. The Chantry. Cullen waved at her desperately from the doorway, his eyes massive with fear. Lana took as deep of a breath as she could, pulling herself to her feet desperately. She forced herself to run, and hurled herself through the door. As soon as she was inside and heard the massive door shut she collapsed on the stone floor. Her body wracked with coughing as she attempted to choke down fresh air.

Vivienne was at her side quicker than Blackwall, cradling her head and pushing a glass bottle to her sputtering mouth. “Shush, shush, Darling.” Vivinenne said curtly but not without concern. “Drink this.”

“Wine?” Lana’s voice crackled.

“No. Elfroot and Dawn Lotus, you lush. Drink.”

“Then can we have wi-” Lana was interrupted by the gush of bitter liquid that spilled down her throat. She coughed, but forced it down, feeling cool tendrils of magic clear her chapped lungs.

Vivienne lifted her to her feet.

Lana surveyed the survivors. She couldn’t think straight enough to tale a head count, but there were more people in the Chantry than she had expected. Everyone was smeared in soot. Blackwall and Cassandra were both splashed with dark blood. Everything smelt of smoke and…well, and of burnt flesh, Lana admitted she recognized it with a churning stomach.

“Now what?” Cullen asked.

“The Elder one wants the Herald, not the village.” Cole spoke clearly. The boy had warned them, had run through hell with them, but he didn’t even sound winded.

“I noticed.” Cullen crossed his arms. “But what are we going to do about it?”

“I’d give myself to save Haven.” Lana regained her composure, allowing herself to instinctively assume her upright carriage. She felt dried blood on her face and in her hair, but she still held her head high. Ever since she had sealed the Maker forsaken Breach something in the back of her head whispered that this moment was coming. At the corner of her vision, Blackwall stiffened, eyes hollow. But he didn’t step forward. He didn’t speak.

“Haven is already lost.” Cullen pointed out. “That would just be more pointless death.”

Chancellor Roderick pulled Cole, who held him as upright as he could, close enough to whisper into the boy’s ear.

“He…he says Andraste showed him a path. A trail up the mountain, to salvation.” Cole spoke clearly. “He says he can show us the way.”

“A way out.” Lana seized the hope Roderick offered with both hands. “Can you get our people up that path and out of harm’s way, Commander?”

“Why? What are you thinking?” Cullen crossed his arms, worry creasing his features. Snow still clung to his lion mane cloak. Soft circles hung under his eyes. He was as tired as the rest of them, but Lana knew he would do what was right.

“We still have another trebuchet. Armed and ready.” Any fear Lana may have held melted away to raw drive. Her earlier avalanche had been a success. One more would bury the already lost Haven, and, hopefully, the Elder One with it.

Realization moved throughout the room as her companions came to the same conclusion as she had. Now, Blackwall could no longer remain quiet.

“You can’t be suggesting that you do this, Herald.” His tone was crisp. His expression betrayed him. Sadness and fear. “That we would use you as a-”

“- Yes, as a distraction. That’s exactly what I am suggesting. If this is the plan, we should begin immediately. ” Lana spoke with confidence, posture rigid, spine finishing-school straight . Inside, her whole body yearned to throw her arms around Blackwall. To tell him it was ok. That this was duty surely he would understand that. Instead she cocked her head towards Cole. “Our friend confirms it. That thing wants me. We know this will work.”

“There has to be another way.” Blackwall shook his head.

“If you can think of one, do let us know, Warden.” Vivienne came to put her hand on Lana’s shoulder, squeezing softly. “The Herald is right. This will work.”

Everyone flinched as the Chantry walls trembled with a sudden explosion of dragonfire outside. Flissa began to cry softly. A choice was made.

“No. The Herald is right. Everyone, come with me!” Cullen called, gathering the group as he helped cole lift the Chancellor. “We must move quickly. Herald, we will signal when we’re above the tree line…until then…focus on finding a way to get yourself out of this.”

And so they left her. Cassandra and Vivienne both embraced her. Cassandra without a word, and Vivienne with one soft good luck wish. Blackwall waited until they were almost alone, and pulled her against his filthy, blood spattered armor. One hand at the small of her back, and one at the base of her neck, he kissed her. She drank him in, tasting the desperation, the fear, in his kiss. They both knew this could be the last one they shared. They clung to each other, Lana gripping at the front of his armor with white knuckles. They parted slowly, gazes still locked in a wordless good bye. Tears had cut creases in the soot and blood on Lana’s ghost pale face.

If anyone saw it, they kept their mouth shut.

“My Lady…please.” Blackwall breathed.

“Know that I will try. I have to try.” Did she mean try to survive, or try to save them? Both, she supposed. She had to do both. One was more likely than the other. But she would try. She snatched her staff up from the floor, and abruptly broke off the moment to go back outside. If she waited any longer, she feared she would change her mind and attempt running for it with the rest of them. She pushed the door open after her companions and the Commander were well ahead on Roderick’s secret passage out. The chaos outside still churned. She raised her staff, brining up a barrier around herself in an effortless snap. In the back of her mind, she wondered how much Lyrium had been in Vivienne’s potion. She was grateful for the spike in mana. As she cast, she felt it coursing through her, giving her a wild vigor that was kindling to the flame of her bravery. The mark in her hand flared with it’s strange kinetic energy.

Good. She needed all the help she could get.

The dragon screamed overhead, spurring Lana to run towards her fated trebuchet. “Fuck it.” She growled, allowing all ladylike pretense to be tossed aside. “Here goes fucking nothing.”

Alone in the snow, she would make her stand.


	4. And a Healer for the Herald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartsickness can be contagious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lana is distant from her Andrastean roots. Mother Giselle’s speech in this part always struck me as
> 
> awkward. And the singing…man the singing. I love the Chant of Light…but let’s shoe horn it in somehwere else, ok?
> 
> I'm going through some rough stuff. Bear with me. I think there is a stray letter "N" in there but I'm updating at work. If you find it, know I'll be editing again later.

Hours or Days later, Lana woke howling in pain like an animal.

All she remembered was the rage she had felt looking the Elder One in the face…and snow so cold, so bitingly frigid, it had felt hot, pulling her out into a white sea. A frozen tide that that crushed everything in it’s path.

Apparently, everything except the Herald of Andraste.

She clawed at the hands that held her, her howls morphing into true cries. Her vision cleared. She was sitting upright; held in the position by several sets of hands. Blackwall. He was there, holding her up, the perfect vision of grim worry. She reached for him like a child, face wet with tears. Only one arm responded. The other… the other…there was nothing there.

With a loud crunching pop, a rush of feeling bloomed into her left arm before she could even process the horror of it’s phantom feeling.

“it’s back in!” Someone behind her almost cheered. “Let her down! Easy now!”

Lana’s cries devolved back into howls, then into weary groans. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, feeling her battered body hit the cot. Her left arm throbbed. Her torso burned. She was alive to feel it, however. That joy was small, but not completely washed out. A gentler set of hands, rough with callouses only holding a sword could create, cupped her face gently. She knew those hands.

“Get her some water.” Came A stark command. Lana recognized the surgeon’s voice overhead. “I’ll find a healer. All those maker blessed mages out there. One should be a healer.”

“Wine” Lana croaked. “Screw the water.” a flask was pressed to her mouth. She allowed its contents to pour down her throat, hopeful. Water greeted her. Too cold, but she swallowed nonetheless.

“What happened?” She begged hoarsely “Please…Blackwall?”

Again, a flask touched her lips. This time, it was wine that kissed her tongue. Thank the maker. They must be alone. She sucked a dreg of the stuff, praying to anyone for the relief it would offer.

“I am here.” Blackwall spoke softly, cradling her head while he tilted the flask to her lips. “Hurry. They won’t be pleased if I get caught feeding you booze. You did it, My Lady. That’s what happened. You did it, and you came back to us. To me.”

“Maker’s cock. It worked.” Lana let herself go limp, hoping the ache in her torso would ease. “All I remember is spitting in that giant bastard’s face, then…snow.”

Blackwall corked the flask. “When we heard the commander calling for help, none of us expected to see him pulling you out of the snow. I am…relieved to say the least. You’re in rough shape, but a healer is on the way to mend the worst.”

She let her eyes close, basking in the closeness of him. She wanted to tell him how overjoyed she was that their last kiss had not been in the Chantry. That she loved him. That he should never part from her side. Instead, all that came out was: “Don’t leave me.” A desperate plea.

“The surgeon is back.” Blackwall watched the tent flap, bending down to quickly brush a kiss on her forehead while he eased her out of his grip. “I wont leave this tent.”

The Surgeon escorted an elf with sharp features in mage’s robes into the tent with her. Before the flap closed behind them, Lana noted the sounds of a heated argument just outside. Not all was well.

“I believe she has several cracked ribs.” The surgeon’s manner was as crisp as ever. “Can you mend them?”

“I can encourage such injuries to mend quicker, yes.” The mage began rubbing his hands together. The distinct, singed, smell of spirit magic radiated from them as they began to glow. “the rest is up to the Herald.”

“The Herald wants wine.” Lana’s demands were ignored, as the surgeon helped Blackwall get her back into a seated position.They pulled the back of the thin shift she wore up, exposing her bruise mottled flesh to the cold air. Lana hissed through her teeth.

“Alright, this may sting.” The mage sounded even, calm.

“Just do it.” Lana gritted. She knew magic powerful enough to speed the knit of bones had bite to it.

The mage did, planting both of his glowing palms onto her back, guiding them around her ribcage.

Lana did her best not to jerk away. The magic felt as though a fire had started in her chest, and spreading to consume her. She began to pant, as the burn turned into a constrictive squeeze. She dully realized she was feeling her own bones moving inside of her. The pain of it crested, making her pant heavily.

Before the spell could reach is crescendo, Lana felt the alluring pull of darkness at the edges of her consciousness. The blessed promise of rest. She flung herself over the precipice, blacking out again.

 

This time, she awoke to the dim lights of either dusk, or dawn. It was nearly impossible to tell. She let her eyes slide open, rousing her body gingerly. Her chest still ached, but at a fraction of it’s previous anger. When every breath had been sharp before, now it had been dwindled down to a tight ache. Her shoulder wasn’t ready to swing a staff, but it no longer felt like it didn’t belong to her. She decided it was an improvement. She made a note to find the Healer and thank him. The effort of mending her as thoroughly as he had must have cost the mage a lot of mana.

 

True to his word, Blackwall sat opposite her, dozing at his guard post by the tent flap. She had never doubted finding him there for a moment…. her brave Warden. Could she claim him? After all they had been through…after the kiss in the Chantry…he could be Her Warden.. But for now, there was time to figure out the details.

She sat herself up, working her loose, gnarled, hair between her fingers. She coaxed the tangles from it and knotted it hastily at the nape of her neck.

While she worked, she listened. The sounds of a camp murmured outside. Soft voices, soft sounds of pack animals being tended to…almost all droned out as a loud argument swelled outside.

Lana held her breath to listen closer. She knew those voices. Cullen, Leliana, and sweet Josephine. They bickered sharply, and the sounds only drew louder. Lana watched the tent flap, with horror that they may burst in and fight right in top of her cot like tom cats.

Blackwall woke, clearing his throat and groaning softly. “They’re at it again?”

“I suppose so.” Lana spoke softly. “Get some more sleep. You look so tired…thank you for staying.”

“I couldn’t see myself anywhere else, My Lady.” Blackwall stretched where he sat. “And as for those three, they’re just scared. Nobody knows what to do next. Who to turn to for leadership.”

“I should go out there. I’m feeling stronger. Don’t ask me to light any candles, but I can walk amoung the living.”

“I’ll gather your clothing.” Blackwall didn’t argue. Lana appreciated that about him; he always understood what she considered to be her duty, and trusted when she said she was fine. He did as he said, pulling a neat pile of her things from under the cot, and setting them beside her.

“I’ll be outside.” He offered her a sad smile so soft, it showed more in his gray eyes than on his mouth.

She almost asked him to stay. She even considered hiding it in a request for his help dressing, but The Warden seemed to have drawn a line in that regard. She told herself to chalk it up to his sense of chivalry, and dressed as quickly as her body would allow. She found her staff, allowing it to help hold her up. For casting, it would be nearly useless. The place in her belly she pulled from to cast was still a cold pit, but she felt naked without it. Leaving it behind and facing the world with empty hands just seemed wrong. She finally stepped outside to check the time.

Dusk, then. The stars overhead were blinking into life, and torches were being lit about the camp. If she had possessed even a shred of mana, Lana would have gladly helped in that effort, just for the joy of making fire. Instead, she scanned her surroundings.

Small tents clustered around campfires. Several familiar faces offered her bedraggled but sincere smiles and greetings. Varric, as though on cue, pushed a warm mug of his antivan coffee upon her.

“You scared us, Princess.” He patted her lower back affectionately; as it was as high as he could reach. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Thank you, my friend.” She mumbled back, feeling guilty that she was allowing herself to be distracted looking for one person in particular:

Blackwall. The Warden was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished into the camp’s activity completely. Lana supposed it had been to limit the hushed whispers of him leaving her tent. Helping hold her in place for the healer and keeping guard was fine; after all they had been close as allies in Haven, Training and drinking together like the closest of friends.

But being seen as anything more publicly? That seemed to be another carefully drawn line. Any real affection, any of the romantic exchanges they had shared, were always when nobody else was looking. It stripped some of the validity she felt in her emotions away…and made her earlier thoughts of him being “hers” seem painfully foolish. He was holding her at arms length…and she had almost told him she loved him. She banished the thought. That had been the almost-dying-for-the-Inquisition talking.

For now, The Warden had made it clear he wanted be alone. So She set her shoulders, and lifted her chin. Sickness of the heart could wait.

“Can you tell me any news?” Lana asked Varric, turning to give the dwarf her full attention.

“Of course. I’m sure you heard the bickering.” Varric was eager to help.

“Indeed. Is that something I should address?”  
”I like this take-charge attitude, Princess. It suits you I don’t know how you could address it honestly. They’re just trying to come up with What to do next.” Varric began to walk closer to the fire and Lana followed. “We need a leader and a plan.”

“A plan is easy enough to come up with.” Lana cracked a smile. “Another avalanche, perhaps?”

“I can’t tell if youre serious or not.” Varric shook his head, eyes bright. “Either way, Chuckles was looking for you but heard you screaming curses at that kind Healer they found for you, and decided it wasn’t the best time. Maybe start there?”  
”Solas?” Lana asked, cocking her head curiously. Solas had saved her life, and readily shared his knowledge. She respected him…but as of yet they were no more than allies to the same cause. “Did he say why?”

“Maybe he’s got hots for the Herald. Eh?” Varric elbowed at her good-naturedly.

Lana let herself laugh. It was a polite, trained, laugh. “Oh please. My ears are not the right shape for that.”

“You think?” Varric favored Lana with a rakish grin. “Your attentions probably stray more towards the… burly warrior type?”

The instincts drilled into her as a young girl prevented her blush…but just barely. Who knew being rasied as a Lady could be so useful? In response, she held up her left hand, letting the mark light her face in an eerie green glow. “I have time for friends, and time for foes, but this keeps me too busy for anything else.” She dropped her hand, moving the subject along. If Blackwall did not take pride in their…well whatever they were doing…then neither would she. “That said. If you were me, where would you start? Solas, or our dear advisers?”

Varric rubbed his chin in thought for a moment. “The trio can wait. Unless you have a plan, I don’t see you making much headway. Plus, I’m dying to know what Chuckles has to say.”

 

Chuckles had a lot to say. By the light of the blue fire he cast, he told Lana all of the Orb the Elder One- Corypheous, she supposed- had wielded.

Solas’ main concern rested on its origin. In truth, he admitted it’s Elven nature to her as though telling her a dark secret. Lana knew, of course, that most other humans would not take it as she had. But she had no reason to demonize the elves to begin with; This was on the ugly bastard who disloacted her shoulder and interrupted their post-breach-sealing celebration, not the elves.

Still, he had every right to worry. Lana wasn’t most humans. Most humans looked for every opportunity to latch onto the elves’ jugulars and bleed them out as soon as their throats were exposed.

Lana did perk up considerably when Solas moved away from the orb, and towards a castle stronghold.

“By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheous has changed it. Changed you. Scout to the north. Be their guide.” He spoke while he paced, his hands clasped behind his back, and his expression distant. He moved like a wildcat, graceful and powerful. “There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. A place where the Inquisition can grow.” He looked to Lana, the flames from his blue torch casting flickering shadows across his features.

“You know where this stronghold is?” Lana felt a surge in strength, a warmth inside herself as the pit in her belly filled just a little. The blue flame grew taller n response and danced more wildly as she burned with it.

“Yes.” Solas gave a miniscule nod, not seeming to notice the torch’s leap in height. “But they need a leader.”

“They have one.” The words were out before Lana could stop them. But they resonated with truth. She had been leading them from the moment she had first stepped up to Haven’s war table. Whether she had been aware of it or not. She had recruited, fought, liberated, and aided all in the Inquisition’s name…and now the Inquisition needed just a bit more from her.

Within an hour, Lana had the camp packed with promises of a true future. Her allies and companions- The Inquisition thus far- were ready to follow her towards it. And follow her they did. For a moment, all the thoughts her dejected heart had been running threw her head were cast aside as she donned this new charge.

It seemed that the weight of the breach had been replaced by this new one…but the sky was whole. She had won. The breach no longer glared down upon them as the scrambled through mountain passes and down ancient roads. That was the victory that spurred her to lead them north. Ever north. She had no idea where they were, but the clear mountain air and Solas’ quiet confidence propelled her ahead of the group. She was the first over every large stone; scouting ahead with a renewed zeal for her cause.

They walked for hours, the sun beginning to sink low and the mountains casting long shadows over them all. The group had slowed considerably; the pack druffalo lowing softly as they were pushed further. Finally, Lana crested what would be the final hill. There it was. The sprawling fortress dominated the landscape; commanding a mountain pass all it’s own. It’s ramparts and towers reached proudly to the sky.

She let out a whoop of joy, laughing a true, untamed, laugh.

“There it is! Inqusition, we made it!”


	5. What the Hart Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rules are meant to be broken. Some only seem to bend; but the snap is violent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy V-day! I think I'm going to start reducing the length of my chapters. Let's give it a go. For now, let's let Lana and Blackwall keep us warm...then cold...then warm again I guess. In my head, he would surprise her with Roses on Valentine's day and she would throw them aside and try to tear his clothes off.

“I will do it because it is right.” Lana had announced to the crowd of wide eyed people. Strangers and allies alike, they had looked up to her with the wild fervor only a good cause could rouse in the soul. She had raised the sword with the dragon wound around it’s handle and accepted her newest title. Inquisitor. Her pride was real; it propelled her deeds to greater heights. As her body healed, she happily returned to the field; relishing nights spent under the stars and the sun on her skin alike.  
The only challenge she balked at, was the one Blackwall posed.   
Since arriving at Skyhold, she hadn’t sought out the Warden directly. Still licking her wounds at the realization of his limits, she only spoke to him in the form of requesting his aide on her excursions. Even then, she tempered his presence by bringing either Vivienne to keep her on track, or Dorian to keep him distracted.She wasn’t ready to face him…but she could not push him away completely, either.   
The way he looked her when nobody else saw…looking into her with so much sorrow, so much guilt, that it made her go cold. But still, it was only when no one else saw.That was the part that left her so unwilling to relent and go to him. Let him come to her. Let the Warden decide what he wanted.

Thedas’ troubles did not wait for her heart to make up its mind, however. Disturbing reports had emerged from the Exalted Plains about the dead walking…and that was a call just too tempting to resist. So, Lana had sent word to Dorian, Bull, and Blackwall to join her for the expedition. A solid team. Bull would love to crush some corpses, and Dorian would savor the chance to play with all the necromancer-fodder strewn about the plains. Blackwall had been invited by the part of her that still longed to talk to him.  
Lana made her way to the stables. Real stables, not like the corral in Haven. She had mstered the route from her quarters to the barn, having been in and out of Skyhold’s walls as often as possible since the Inquisition had moved into the stronghold.There, Horsemaster Dennet had her mount waiting for her. A hart; tall, proud, and nearly wild. He had been brushed to a glossy sheen, his copper coat glowing with health.  
Dennet had urged against her ever trying to get on the creature’s back. “I’ve never worked with one of these. The bastard waits for you to hesitate and strikes out like a snake.”   
“He just needs a confident hand.” Lana had insisted. “He’s not even as mean as some stallions you’ve broken to ride.”  
“I’ll do it.” Dennet had relented, rubbing his temples as though his head ached. “but, Inquisitor, when he bites a piece off of you I will not show any sympathy.”  
Orin, she called the beast. The Hart was just as likely to drop it’s head and gore a foe on it’s antlers as it were to turn and run. An exciting companion, but nothing like Rowan.  
Not seeing Rowan’s kind eyes still brought a pang of sadness to her heart. Her prized horse had been lost when the fighting at Haven broke out. Someone had flung the gate open and sent the horses scattering, to give them the best chance at survival. Bull’s chargers didn’t report finding any horse corpses in their detail of Haven’s ruins. So there was hope.  
Lana drew Orin out of his stall, throwing a blanket and saddle on the beast’s back before he could protest. While she strapped it into place, ignoring Orin’s stamping feet, she allowed herself to look into the barn.   
The sun slanted into the barn, making dust motes dance and casting everything in a warm glow. There he was, cast in the same honey-colored light. Blackwall. He reclined easily in a rough wooden chair, his boots up on a table and crossed at the ankle while he reviewed what must have been her request. His woodworking was coming along nicely, Lana noted, trying not to stare at him. Trying, and failing. She choked back the urge to speak to him; To go to him while simultaneously angry she would allow herself to cave so easily.  
“Very formal, Inquisitor.” Blackwall spoke without looking up.   
“Will you accept?” She nearly leapt from her skin, but kept her voice clipped.   
“ I would be honored to join you. I do enjoy our time together.” He folded the note, now turning to look at her. His expression was hard to read, but his shift in tone belayed hurt. “I hope you still do, too.”  
Just like that. He pulled her back in. She dropped the cool pretense, shoving any notion of shame into the back of her mind.. “I do. We haven’t had much of it since…” She didn’t know how to finish that statement. Since the Chantry in doomed Haven? That had been their last truly romantic gesture. Since he slipped her wine and vanished?   
“I know.” He mumbled, bringing his boots to the dusty barn floor and standing. He dropped the note, eyes down. “Corypheous made one hundred enemies when he kicked down our door. When he came after you, he really made it personal. I swear I’ll take that twisted bastard down, even if I have to die to do it.”  
“I’m not losing anyone to that monster. Especially not you.” Lana finished buckling her saddle into place, glancing up to see the Warden had crossed the distance that seperated them. 

“Fuck it. Come here.”Blackwall growled as he moved her away from the irate Hart. He pinned her against the wooden wall between two stalls, leaning one elbow above her head and kissing her mouth with a desperate urgency. Lana encouraged him by running her hands up his gloriously muscled back and shoulders while laid his body along hers; as though trying to see how they would fit together. She gasped into his mouth softly, pushing her hips against him with the arch of her back. Maker’s balls, it felt so good. Even just being this close made her shudder with an electric arousal. He drew away slowly, wrapping his strong arms around her to pull her tightly to him, groaning softly into her ear . “My Lady, I don’t know what it is you’re doing to me.”  
“Don’t stop.” Lana panted, her entire existence dwindling down to the ache in her lower belly and the desire that flickered like flames between them.   
He released her reluctantly, regretfully; the hard intensity of his features returning to an expression of brooding sorrow. “We should be off. Our companions will be waiting. I’m sorry, My Lady. I cannot.”


	6. Torches In the Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does the point of no return look like?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dying to write this scene.

“Oh, Inquisitor!” Dorian’s false sing-song voice rang across the battlefield of shambling undead.He cast wildly, with Bull smashing corpses into rubble nearby. “Could you be a doll, and light a fire for me? You’re so good at it!” He punctuated his remark by using his staff to shove a half-rotten warrior away from him.

Lana snapped a barrier up over Blackwall as he squared off with an Arcane horror. The Warden let out a loud battle cry before charging forward, sword singing as it slashed through the air in a brilliant arc that promised dismemberment. 

“That is my thing, isn’t it?” She called back in a falsetto dripping with sarcasm. “Plus, I’m just so bored over here!”

she artfully swung her staff under one arm and spun towards the body pit that was spewing forth more shambling skeletal soldiers. With both hands curled into claws and held palm up, she seemed to pull a wall of ravenous flames from the earth itself. The pit and its contents were immediately engulfed. She then spun her attention back to the Horror. As Blackwall took a step back, she cast a rune under the demon. The rune exploded, knocking the creature back and catching its ragged robes ablaze. It let out a guttural, squealing, cry of pain. It’s black blood leaked from various slashes, making Lana’s flames hiss. In her mind, where the nagging question of her future specialization sat, she chalked another tally under Knight-Enchanter. The smell of flames and blood made her burn to rush in like the Warriors did. She had seen Captain Helanie in battle; the spirit blade was an effective way to both channel mana and satisfy bloodlust.

 

Bull rushed the Arcane Horror to help Blackwall, booming his wild laughter as he went. The Qunari also delighted in the thick scent of spilled blood. This allowed Lana to fall back to Dorian, and cast from afar once she had them both under barrier, letting the warriors work. Her mana reserves were dwindling; she needed a moment to breathe.

She shot fire along the currents of his lightning spells. It was a strategy they had been practicing; using the residual effects of stunning a foe with lightning as well as turning them to kindling while they were down. The results were chaos and smoke…but anything involving fire seemed to go that way. Dorian called it ‘spiking the sparks’.

“It’s about time you let the men work.” Dorian didn’t look at her as he spoke, focusing ahead on the final pulls of the fight. “Why else bother bringing them along at all?”

“They’re nice to look at.” Lana ceased casting as the Horror fell.

Bull took the chance to smash it’s head with a very loud, very wet sounding, crack the spattered both warriors in black stinking blood.

Their day had consisted of much the same. Fight the walking dead and burn the body pits. Under the Exalted Plains’ merciless sun, the work was hard. All four of them were covered in sweat, soot, and the clotted half-coagulated gunk that the undead spewed if you hit them hard enough.

But finally, it was done. They blew the horn to signal victory, and started back towards camp.

Bull walked alongside Lana, strapping his heavy war hammer to his back. “You look like shit, Boss.”

“Why thank you, Bull.” Lana looked down at her scorched hands and stained clothes. “I suppose a bath would be very welcome. Do I smell as bad as I look?”

“I can’t smell anything other than burning corpses and sweaty Qunari.” Dorian wrinkled his nose, disgusted. “The Iron Bull, do you ever shower?”

“Why, do you want to watch?” Bull grinned, falling back to join Dorian.

“No!” The Tevinter mage blurted, looking horror-struck. “I just have to walk down wind of you!”

Lana chuckled, shaking her head. “Should the Warden and I leave you two alone?

Dorian shot her a glare wicked enough to freeze water as they came into the camp. Lana saw how Dorian watched after the Qunari in question. He would never admit to it openly, but the Tevinter had a crush and she knew it. She lived to diffuse his barbs by pointing it out.

“Alright, Alright.” Lana held her hands up. “I get it, Dori. Care to join me in a bath? I’m thinking of that waterfall we saw the other day. I have some soap in my tent.”

Dorian arched one perfect eyebrow. “I could be tempted.”

 

The statue of Fen’Harel at the top of the falls kept watch while Dorian shucked his armor, and Lana set her fire runes under the water. One, she placed at the foot of the falls, and a second at the top. Within seconds, steamed curled up into the darkening sky. A true bath, for the weary mages to indulge in.

Dorian eased himself into the hot water with an indulgent sigh. “Bless you, Inquisitor.”

Lana rammed a torch into the ground, lighting it before disrobing and easing into the hip-deep water herself. She sunk down to her chin, letting her eyes slide shut. “Please, call me Lana.”

Dorian gave her a smug smile. “Bless you, Lana.”

“Thank you.” Lana pulled out the soap she had promised, passing it to Dorian. “When are you going to talk to him?”

Dorian blushed deeply, working the soap into a lather. “Him who?”

“The Iron Bull.” Lana cocked her head. “You’re hardly discreet.”

“Eventually. What if… what if he rejects me?” Dorian paused in washing to lock eyes with Lana. “Then what? All of this time building up the courage would be for nothing.”

“Then he misses out on someone incredible…and I get to take you drinking.” Lana held out her hand for the scrap of soap.

“What about you?” Dorian handed it over.

“Me?”

“Oh, don’t play stupid. Blackwall.”

“Andraste’s tits! Keep your voice down!” Lana splashed him, glaring.

“I Knew it!” Dorian accepted the splash, laughing. “Confess your sins, you harlot!”

It was Lana’s turn to blush. “There is nothing to tell. One moment, he will have me…the next, he will not.”

“He always looks like a dog that’s been cuffed.” Dorian crossed his arms. “ I don’t know if I approve. Honestly, I don’t know if the Warden is trustworthy, and I know Bull also holds his doubts.”

Lana washed, letting her thoughts drift. “When I decide I am done with him, he draws me back in. Like a moth to a…” she gestured to the meager torch by their pile of clothes. “I think if he wanted to truly hurt me he would have done it by now. I trust him. He just…causes me a fair bit of confusion.”

Dorian shook his head. “Tsk tsk. It’s never simple is it? Hurry and finish washing. It’s gotten dark and I’m pruning.”

“I’m ok out here,Dori. You can head in.” Lana used one hand to slowly undo her hair. “I have this mess to sort out.”

“I insist upon sending a few scouts out to at least watch the perimter.” Dorian gave no room for argument, flinching as he left the warm water to dress as quickly as he could to avoid the chill. “You are the Inquisitor, after all. Your Advisers would geld me if you died during a bath.”

“Fine. Tell them to be inconspicuous!” Lana called after him

Alone. Lana was alone. She pulled her hair finally loose, and dipped her head under the water, letting her chocolate-colored tresses float up around her. She was lost in the warmth, and stayed under until her lungs demanded air.

As she rose, flipping her now soaked mane behind her with her hands, she spotted movement. A flicker of glinting armor caught in her torchlight.

She stiffened, suddenly very aware she had told Dorian she was fine out here alone; standing completely naked in hip-deep water. Her eyes darted to her staff on shore. Please be a scout. Lifting one hand above her bath water, she summoned a small flame in her palm, holding it ready to throw. Please be a scout.

“Hello?” She whispered to the darkness. “Scout Harding, my love? Is that you?”

“Harding, my love?” A voice so familiar it flushed her with rage. Dorian you scheming snake. A thousand cruel thoughts flashed across her mind. She would fake a love letter in Dorian’s hand. She would put essence of Giant spider glands in his hair pomade. The fire in her palm went out. Blackwall himself parted the brush, about to add something surely witty to his question, but his eyes flicked up to Lana and words failed him.

Her bare body seemed to glow in the soft light cast by her lone torch. Water glistened on her full breasts, her rosy nipples tight in the cool night air. Under his transfixed stare, she felt invincible. Without a word, she let the hand that had been holding fire mere moments ago drift it’s fingertips to the hollow of her throat and down her breastbone to her navel. Her eyes lidded, and her lips parted pleasantly.

“I…I…” Blackwall stammered, blinking. “…came to keep guard, My Lady.”

The steam that curled around her added to the visual. She strode towards him a few steps, bringing the feminine curve of her hips to break the surface of the water. Gloriously naked, she stopped at about thigh-deep, one hand drifting to smooth over her lower belly as she cocked one hip. The hand dipped lower, stroking her velvety smooth outer lips with teasing fingers. A tantilizing display. She had expected to feel vulnerable, as she had her first time with a lover. Vulnerable and awkward. But here, with the waterfall crashing behind her and the moonlight overhead, she felt vibrant and alive.

“I am honored.” She breathed her words. “Do you like what you see? Care to join me?”

Blackwall seemed to be struggling with something. He shook his head, looking down and away.

“Of course I would care to join you.” The hurt in his voice shattered Lana’s sensual confidence. “But I cannot. My Lady…Lady Trevelyan…I simply cann-”

“-Why not? I haven’t exactly saved my maidenhead for some noble husband.” Lana’s own hurt was sharp. It rang in her voice.

“That is not why.” Blackwall ran his hand through his hair, turning away. “Believe me. I want to be in that fucking pool.I’m returning you to camp, and I’m going back to Skyhold. Please…please dress.” He shook his head, shoulders sagging. “I can’t believe I’m saying that.”

Lana’s eyes burned with tears. She splashed to shore, and yanked on her clothing hastily. “Just go.” Her tears threatened her voice. “I will find my own way.”

“But My-”

“-Don’t. Go. I have my staff.” She demanded, voice raw. “Just go, Warden Blackwall. You’ve done enough.”

“As My Lady wishes.”

 

Dorian saw the pale expression of silent rage on her face when she arrived at camp, hair loose and wet about her and completely alone. “Lana?”

She glared at him, hot tears stinging her eyes as she yanked the flap to her tent open. “Bring wine and an apology.”


	7. A Fortification Of Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walls are for castles and jilted lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene hit so hard in game. Baewall (I know, right?) Was my 3rd romance. I wasn't expecting such a hard shut down after skipping off into bed with my past 2 lovers.   
> I was shook for days after ramparts.  
> Now I just wanna get to the part where these guys bang. I'm trying to decide if I should rush it or not.

As Skyhold came into sight, Lana looked over to Dorian and Bull riding beside her. “Orin has been fighting his bit. I’m going to let him loose to run.” Her voice was hollow, empty. All of her tears had worn her out and her hangover was only matched by Dorian’s. His apology had been good, but the brandy he brought had been better.

“Making an entrance?” Dorian gave her a tired smile.

“Do you not approve?” Lana’s manner was crisp. Proper. Her posture in the saddle was immaculate. She was hiding behind her manners and poise, and dong a damn good job.

“I think it’s the least you have earned. We can find our own way.”

Lana gave a curt nod, and laid her heels to Orin.

The Hart needed no cue. He lengthened his neck and picked up into a powerful gallop, screaming with pleasure at finally being turned loose in the hauntingly beautiful music Harts made.

Riding aboard a Hart is different from a horse; Their gait is effortlessly smooth. Their cloven feet roll like thunder, but do not clatter noisily on stones as they devour the ground they run on. Lana leaned forward in the saddle, feeling him churn beneath her. They flew across Skyhold’s stone bridge and sailed under the portcullis as it still rose, sending shimmering flakes of rust raining on them.

She reined up in the courtyard,Orin popping up onto his hind feet in a rear.

Thankfully, it was still to early for the courtyard to be heavily populated. Only horsemaster Dennet had to scurry out of the way, cursing.

“Sorry, Dennet!” Lana called,Her great Hart landing back on all four hooves. “Orin wanted a stretch.”

“You and that monster. Stick to horses!” Dennet scolded, attempting to take Orin by the reins. The Hart snapped at him, teeth clicking in the air as Lana pulled him back from catching the Horsemaster.

“Orin, no that’s bad. He’s loyal to me. I like him. Did I tell you a wolf pack attempted to ambush us on the road? He gored one and the others fled.” Lana pointed to red streaks down three of the ivory prongs of Orin’s antlers. “See? I’ve never had a horse do that.”

“Charming. You can put that menace away yourself, Inquisitor.” Dennet tossed his hands up in defeat. “I’ll be tending to the more mild-mannered mounts. No more weird beasts! Stables are for horses!”

For a split second, Lana considered calling him back. Putting Orin away meant possibly seeing Blackwall in the barn.

She forced the steel back into her spine. No. Blackwall would be the one to suffer seeing her, not the other way around. She was the Maker’s damned Inquisitor.

She dismounted, leading Orin, who was suddenly as gentle as a kitten, to the Stables.

The Hart was unsaddled, brushed, and fed before Blackwall appeared. Lana hadn’t even heard him.

“Pardon me, Inquisitor, but I was hoping you could spare a moment to walk the ramparts with me. To check the fortifications.” Came his voice flat and polite, from behind her.

Lana set her shoulders,back straight and chin lifted. She ignore her shame at seeing him again, remembering standing before him. Naked and playing with herself while he told her to get dressed and refused to look

“I believe I am finished here, Warden. Lead the way.” Her confidence never wavered. She followed him with the same balanced gait a master of etiquette had drilled into younger her. She could almost feel the 4 books balanced on her head as she walked.

They mounted the ramparts. Here, the cold wind whipped at both them and the banners overhead from the north. Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Blackwall leaned his elbows on the ramoarts wall, looking out over the empty air of the mountain pass; he kept his back to her. Lana waited. She could tell the Warden wanted to speak, and internally was burning to know what he had to say.

Blackwall cleared his throat. “I was thinking back to our conversation in the stables, before we left for the exalted plains.”

Lana remembered it. She remembered his body against hers. His tongue in her mouth. The taste of him. The feel of his weight against her. Memories that burned in her like a lit fuse. “Yes. You said you would die to kill Corypheous. I said I would not allow it.”

“Yes.” Blackwall kept his eyes off of her. “The more I think on it, the more I have come to realize you can’t afford to think I’m special.”

“Pardon?” Lana asked politely in response.

Blackwall turned to face her then, silver eyes clouded with sadness. Dorian was right. He did look like a cuffed dog.

“I’m a solider.” He hardened as he spoke, turning to stone as he kept his voice flat. Hollow. “No different than anyone we lost at Haven. I am fond of you, It’s true, But we can’t let…this...go on any further.”

Lana went cold. He was fond of her? Just fond? How had she been so stupid? How had she let herself project emotions onto him that simply were not there? She felt the color drain from her face, but fought for composure and won. “This?”

“Yes, This.” Blackwall continued. “This…whatever you want this to be...is impossible.”

“Why?” Lana’s shoulders dropped. Her posture went slack. Once again, he had found the crack in her armor and pulled her in…this time just to cast her further away than ever. What had she done? Had she pushed too hard? Was she undesirable? Shame stung her as she remembered how she had promenaded like a common tavern whore before him. Tears she thought she had rid herself of the night before rolled down her cheeks quietly, blurring her Trevelyan green eyes. “I…I know you have feelings for me. Why?”   
The word 'know' was tingedwith desperation. She was begging him to confirm it.  
“My Lady.” Blackwall began, making Lana flinch. Those two words had always made Lana feel so special; like the promises her past had made her of Chivalry and courtly love were still possible. “You’re the Inquisitor, The Herald of Andraste. Even now people are flocking to your banner, ready to die.” Blackwall turned on his heel, walking away, taking a moment to get out from under the unbearable weight of her tears. “We must remain focused on the task at hand.”

Lana’s heart broke right there. He had been so off and on with her, and she had suspected…but to hear it out loud unraveled her in the worst way.

“Why make it about them?” Lana demanded. Her body was numb. The kiss in the Chantry flashing to the front of her mind. How he had clung to her, how he had begged her to return. So he could cast her adrift on his own terms? “Or the war? It doesn’t have to be.”

I could just be about them. She could rein her emotions in. She could keep it a secret. Anything for a chance to be close to the Warden she had come to…love. After everything, after all the evenings drinking,sparring,and exploring together? He could do this to her? He stood beside her in a thousand battles. Why not this one, too?

“I wish it were that simple.” Blackwall stood farther away now, his arms crossed across his chest. He was closed to her and a hundred miles away. “I really do. But it’s not. We’re both bound by duty, Lana. Our lives aren’t ours to live.” He wore his guilt like the finest gilded Orlesian mask. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

And he left.

Just like that. He slammed the wooden door to who-knows-where in Skyhold behind him.

Alone on the Ramparts, Lana allowed herself to drop to her knees, hands covering her eyes as quiet, soundless, tears ran between her fingers. Duty. It had to be Duty.

Maybe he was right. Her pining for Blackwall and his romantic attentions had been distracting. Maybe it was wholly inappropriate to pursue a relationship while the world was still in shambles.

She still let herself cry. She sobbed on the ramparts until she was heaving and gagging, her sorrow spent for the second time in 24 hours.

She rose shakily, and dried her cheeks.

It was over. The worst had happened, and she had survived. Now, all she had to do was move forward.

She brushed the dust from her clothing, and set her shoulders. She burst into the tavern a moment later, and procured herself a tankard of ale.

Sensing her distress, Bull joined er at the bar.

“Boss.”

“Bull.” Lana titled back her tankard, drinking fast.

“Whoa, whoa, whats going on?” Bull gave her a warm smile. “Usually you only drink like this with Dorian.”

“Remember that dragon in the Hinterlands?” Lana stared dead ahead, both hands on the tankard.

Bull’s ears pricked at the word ‘dragon’. “Yes. What about her?”

“I want her dead. Her head mounted over the portcullis.” Lana mumbled. “Care to join me?”

“Fuck yes. I won’t question why; just know I’m on board!” Bull lifted his tankard, and the bawdy crowd cheered.

“next round is on me!” Lana announced. “We’re going to slay a dragon!”

The tavern roared with approval.


	8. Slay for Glory. Live for Duty. Die for Pride.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's only not worth the risk if you fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon fights fill me with joy. I find Bull's bliss at bringing one down contagious, and liked the thought that the first thing Lana does after being dumped is exit the realm of duty. She immediately puts herself in direct danger. As though to say: "see? Either I'm trying to get with you or I'm fighting a dragon. Life is wrought with dangers."

“Are you sure this is wise, my dear?” Vivienne checked her armor for the fourth time. Vivienne had shown great displeasure at the idea of purposely going forth to fight a high dragon and the closer they drew to Lady Sayna’s Valley the more nervous the mage became.

“Are you scared, Madame de Fer?” Lana walked with purpose, staff in hand and eyes dead ahead.

“I am not unwise. That said, I could not allow you to venture forth on this mission without my aide.” She drew her own staff, her expression carefully void.Lana grinned at her. “Bull and I are excited.”

“We are well aware of the Qunari’s sick delight in this.” Cassandra called, watching the sky intently, her shield in hand and ready to leap up at any moment. “Remind me again why we are doing this?”

“Glory for the Inquisition.” Lana replied almost too quickly.

“Who gives a crap why?” Bull popped his shoulders as he walked, stretching in preparation for battle. “Do it for the thrill! Kill the big bitch because it makes you feel alive!”

As they approached the broken tower in the valley they finally caught up with Bull., and there it was. Perched on the tower; four massive clawed feet gripping the stones as it’s slit pupils narrowed on them, recognizing the threat immediately. It screamed, a resonating, awful sound that made Lana’s ears ring with it’s high pitch.The Fereldan Frostback’s head alone was larger than all of Lana; the Dragon of Ostwick dwarfed considerably in the comparison to the true beast of a similar name. It’s crimson scales shimmered in the sun, sparkling like a faceted ruby with horns, spikes, and claws made of onyx. A gorgeous creature that inspired no small level of both awe and instinctive fear.

Every fiber of Lana’s being recognized this monster as a predator. Told her to run away.

It wasn’t too late to reconsider, Lana thought to herself. The portcullis could stay dragon-head-less.

 

When the intruders upon it’s territory did not back down, the dragon launched itself off of the tower. It’s leathery wings beat gusts of hard wind that sent Lana, Vivienne, and Cassandra to the ground in a heap of robes and armor. Only Bull kept his feet; the pommel of his massive battle axe dug into the earth to support his bulk. “She’s fucking INCREDIBLE!” He shouted over the howling wind, watching the dragon as it flew itself towards the nearby blood cliffs.

Lana rose in time to see the Qunari warrior take off after his quarry, howling with feral glee. With a resolute nod to herself She let out a whooping cry and followed at full speed.As she ran she cast the strongest barriers she knew around herself and her allies before she started throwing fire from her hands and her staff. It was officially too late to go back. They were in for a fight.

The big bitch fired back. The first fireball nearly caught Lana; the mage’s barrier deflecting the worst of the heat and most of the impact. She felt the rush of hot air as it blasted her, smelling sulphur in the dragon fire. All around her and her companions, fireballs exploded. They moved in unpredictable patterns, with Cassandra swinging around to flank the dragon while Vivienne and Lana focused on ranged casting and keeping barriers up. The warriors would hack the beast to death, while the mages whittled away at it and kept it occupied.

“We need her to land!”Lana pulled to a halt,sending a jet of flame up at the low-flying dragon.

“Got it!” Vivienne pulled up beside Lana, casting cold beams of freezing air from her glowing staff towards he dragon’s wings. The air froze solid, hardening over delicate membrane and joints, bringing the massive beast careening to the ground. 

Bull fell on her as she landed, bashing a her hard hide with the axe while the dragon screamed in rage,. It spun after Bull, snapping it’s massive jaws with a carnal savagery. The Iron Bull was laughing, swinging at the monster’s legs and already spotted with blood from his more successful hits.

Cassandra followed up, stabbing the beast in the shoulders and thighs, letting Bull keep her occupied while her blade penetrated the flesh. When her thick leathery tail swung around, only Cass saw it soon enough to get out of the way. Bull was swept back, grunting as the tail connected hard with his midsection.

Lana cast wildly, her fire glowing off of the dragon’s red scales harmleslly. She saw Bull go down, and watched the dragon’s mouth gape open, sparks brewing between it’s teeth. In a moment of fear, she sent a second jet of fire directly into the beast’s black throat. It jerked back in surprise, buying Bull enough time to find his feet, but seemed to only draw the beast’s attention towards the mages.

Vivenne swept her staff towards the dragon sharply; icicles flew like arrows. The punctured directly into the thick dragon hide, striking the brute in the neck and chest. It roared, enraged and beat it’s frozen wings hard enough to break the sheet of ice that had been paralyzing them.

Vivienne fired more frosted spikes and streams of freezing air in an attempt to ground it again, but to no avail. The dragon was quickly out of range.

Lana watched it gain height, then begin to swoop down towards them.

“Take cover! Go!” Lana shouted, running at full tilt. Hellfire rained from above. The dragon ravaged the landscape, it’s explosive fireballs engulfing anything nearby that could catch fire. The erupted mere feet from Lana as she dove under a cliff’s overhang to wait out the onslaught.

Cassandra, Bull, and Vivienne followed suit, pressing against the far wall the overhang offered.

“Plan?” Cassandra barked sharply, winded and very angry.

“We have to get under it.” Lana panted, watching the dragon swoop back down towards the ground. “She’s most vulnerable there. We made headway there before”

“Good thing we brought two mages.” Cassandra snarled. “what can you do from underneath it, Inquisitor?”

Lana flipped her staff around, to the sharp blade that protruded from the bottom end of it. “Gut the bitch like a fish.”

“And, dear Seeker, have you forgotten about me?” Vivienne drew her spirit blade from her belt. The weapon sprang to life, humming with energy. Lana burned with envy.

“Alright.” Cassandra nodded. “Bull, let me draw her fire. I am faster. Vivienne, Inquisitor, keep moving but get under it and attack with Bull Lets get this over with.”

As the dragon landed, Cassandra bolted, screaming furiously.

The beast took the bait, and began firing at the seeker. Bull and Vivienne went next, the latter setting explosive frost runs around the dragon’s feet. As they exploded, the dragon sprang to and away, yelping as it’s feet were bitten with frost.

Lana cast barriers over the two of them, and took one last deep breath before taking off in the direction of the Frostback’s vulnerable belly. The closer she got to the dragon, the larger it got. It’s jerky, leaping, bucking movements became more dangerous.The ground shook as it’s feet stomped. It’s thrashing tail whooshed by her as the beast spun quickly to bite at the two new attackers drawing close. She was charging with only a staff knife. She felt more naked than she had been in the waterfall pool under Warden Blackwall’s merciless scrutiny. She set her jaw, forcing that moment of sickening vulnerability from her head. She was Lana Trevelyan. The Inquisitor. The Fire Mage…and about to confront a literal dragon. There was no room for self-pity.

Cassandra arrived first with bull hot on her heels. She slashed with zeal at the thick hide of the brute’s back legs. The seeker fought with an uncanny grace; as though she had learned to wield a sword in the ballroom. She bent to dodge the thick tail that made a second failed attempt to knock her off of her feet. Her expression was one of harrowing cold fury as she worked; a stark contract to her Qunari counterpart. Bull had yet to stop laughing. As blissful as a child playing a favorite game. He brought his axe crashing down, and hacked one of the beast’s toes clean from its foot.

“This little piggie went to MARKET!” He bellowed, bringing the axe down again for the next toe.

“This little piggie went HOME!”

The dragon raised that foot in response with a howl, hopping out from the reach of her assailants. Bull and Cassandra moved to keep up, as the Dragon placed itself in the direct line of attack of Vivienne.

The First Enchanter took the provided opening to dive beneath the dragon; her spirit blade arced in the air, humming with power. It slashed the dragon’s snout as the beast twisted itself to came down to bite. Madame de Fer was rewarded with blood; not the first cut on the dragon, but the deepest, and the loud clack! Of jaws hitting together and missing their target. As agile as a cat, Vivienne seemed to avoid near destruction with lithe ease.

The dragon recoiled, spinning in fast stomping steps and attempting to blast fire underneath itself. Fire swirled around Vivienne; But the barrier set by her companion mage protected her from the onslaught. The flames harmlessly billowed around the translucent green bubble. The bubble sizzled and sparked, but held power until after the fire dissipated before vanishing. It was quickly replaced by one of Vivienne’s own.

Lana joined last under their foe, sliding on one hip directly under the dragon’s soft belly and into the midst of her companions. Without thinking, she let out a wild scream that sounded vaguely like the word ‘duty’, stabbing up into the gut of the beast. Lana relished in the hot blood that gushed from the wound she created as she drew the staff back out. The dragon burned with the same internal wildfire as she did. The gore that fell from the animal steamed as it left it’s hulking vessel. Again, and once again, she repeated the stab. Both times the wet sound was followed by a rain of even more blood. Lana was covered in it, blind with rage and borderline unhinged with surges of mana and power. The metallic smell was intoxicating. She could feel her every vein begin to sing with a dizzying rush of adrenaline. Overhead, the dragon screamed.It pawed beneath it’s bleeding, hulking, mass; swiping Lana out from under her with one clawed hand.

Lana sailed like a rag doll, hitting the rocky ground hard. Her staff left her grip, sailing out of sight.

Bull swung at the now wounded Frostback, his axe cutting air as she bounded away from Lana’s companions and towards the crumpled mage on the ground. It’s gait was awkward as it favored it’s wounded foot, and it left a trail of ichor from the ragged holes in it’s gut, but it bore down with the rage it’s species was renowned for all the same.

Lana saw her coming, and pushed herself to her feet. She did the only thing she could think of. She summoned a wall of fire around herself. It sprang up suddenly, and seemed to startle the beast as it advanced on her. The Frostback stumbled, drawing back long for Lana to see something come sailing through the wall of flames and slide to a stop at her feet.

It was Viv’s spirit hilt. The blade was inactivated; the mere touch from knight-enchanter mage would summon it.

She made a note to thank Vivienne, and seized the hilt. The golden blade burst forth. Lana felt it’s power course up into her from her fingertips. She hummed with the same electricity, the same wild energy as the blade itself. In an instant, knight and sword were merely an extension of one another. One being of shared mana.

The dragon’s muzzle parted the flames; scaled lips peeling back as it’s forked tongue tasted the air. A viper, seeking it’s prey a midst the smoke and inferno The Fire Mage had summoned about her like a cloak. Lana assumed the stance she had seen Blackwall take just before battle; weapon raised, knees bent, torso pivoted, as the rest of the dragon’s head passed through her scorching barrier. The Mage and the High Dragon, both born of incandescence. She knew she would get one shot to kill it. To emerge from the ring of embers as the victor. Once the dragon came for her, she had to act fast or die on her own prideful errand.

The dragon’s yellow eyes narrowed on her at last finding her within the blaze. It’s head reared back; mouth opening to show a row of arm-length fangs. Like a true snake, It struck at her. Now. Lana had to act now. She waited the heartbeat it took for the beast’s mouth to open fully and lunged upward, driving the blade up and back into the monster’s skull. Lana pushed with all of her might, feeling the blade sink through bone. Unseen to Lana, the length of gold energy made solid passed into the skull’s cavity and speared the monster’s brain. The Dragon’s eyes rolled back into its head, it’s tongue lashing wildly as it let out a guttural howl of pain A low, mournful, sound only a dying beast could make. Lana withdrew the blade, and yet more blood along with a river of drool oozed from the creature’s mouth as it stumbled back, swaying, it’s cries reaching a tone of agony. It’s head lashed on the end of it’s long neck, hitting the ground well before it’s hulking body sent up clouds of billowing dust.

The dragon moved no more.

Lana, covered in stinking blood, dropped the spirit blade and sank to the ground. Her body coursed with adrenaline, and she panted hard enough to make her shoulders heave. She had done it. Battered and definitely bruised, but very much alive, she let her head tilt back and her eyes close, feeling the sun on her face. The Fire Mage had conquered. Acting outside of duty, she had risked her skin for a trophy…and not died for her folly.

“Boss!” Bull was the first of her companions to get to her. Jovially, he scooped the Inquisitor up in his arms. “That was so bad-ass! You killed the shit out of that big scaly asshole!”

Vivienne retrieved her spirit hilt, as cool as ever, even if covered in filth and dust.. “Indeed, my dear. Nobody will believe you went into the mouth of a dragon and lived.”

“It was reckless. The most stupid thing I have ever seen.” Cassandra’s words did not match her half smile. “Like everything the Inquisitor does.”

Lana was still catching her breath. “I…I can’t believe that worked… Vivienne, I owe-”

“say no more, darling.” Vivienne brushed off Lana’s thanks. “I think you have chosen a specialization, however. I suggest you see Captain Helanie about it.”

“Maybe…Maybe in a few days. Bull, please put me down.” Lana’s head swam. She still sang with the thrill of such a grand kill. But the high was wearing off. She was starting to become aware of how hard she had hit the ground. Bull obliged, patting her shoulder hard enough to send her flat back into the dirt. She kept her feet through sheer force of will.

“To the Tavern then?” The Qunari’s asked, blithe as a mabari with two tails.

“First.” Lana pointed to the bleeding, stinking, steaming corpse behind her. “I want it’s head. Then, a bath…then yes, the Tavern would be appropriate I suppose.”


	9. The Orlesian Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the right one in. Let the wrong one in. Let anyone in who makes you feel alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t blush while you’re writing it, it’s not smut.  
> I see Lana as someone who gave her virginity freely just to be rid of it. To spite the family that was forced to cast her out. So, not wholly inexperienced...but underwhelmed...? I'm looking forward to correcting that for her.

When Lana, Vivienne, Bull, and Cassandra had returned from the Hinterlands with the massive dead dragon head drawn in a druffalo cart behind them there had been a lot of commotion. Apparently, despite her loud proclamations in the tavern the night before, nobody had actually expected Lana to go out and slay a dragon. They had assumed the Inquisitor drunk.  
It was a fair assessment. She had been rather drunk by the end of the evening; but at the time of her declaration the ale had yet to hit her. Something other than alcohol had fueled her desire for recklessness. Back at Skyhold, the conversation on the ramparts was real again. She couldn’t stay long. She needed another bloodthirsty foe to distract her from the pain of remembered words:  
_Our lives aren’t ours to live._  
Hers was. Even as the Inquisitor, it was her life to live. Now, soldiers and pilgrims alike pressed close to the cart, eager to marvel at the trophy she had brought back to prove it.. Familiar faces and strangers alike gathered to congratulate her and her fellow slayers.  
It was a blur of noise and a level of chaos that set Lana’s fried nerves even further on edge. Her whole body ached and her clothing was actually stiff with dried gore. Desperate to get away, she pulled Orin around, feeling the Hart beneath her start to react to her distress. He pranced in place and shook his antlered head, setting some of the oppressive throng to clear a path..  
Lana slid from the saddle, taking a close grip on Orin’s bridle.  
‘I’m sorry, everyone. I should put this brute away!” Lana was nearly grateful for Orin’s bad attitude as she lead him in the most direct route to his stall. The Hart briskly trotted behind her to keep up, uttering guttural grunts of displeasure.

Lana shut herself in the stall with Orin, closing both top and bottom doors for a moment of true privacy to unsaddle. She leaned her forehead on Orin’s neck when she was finished, brush still gripped in her trembling hand.  
Whatever you want this to be is impossible.  
Maybe she could skip the bath. Run up to her quarters and change her clothes. Pick up her companions on the way out. Fresh mounts were at hand. She could stock up on supplies in the first camp she saw…  
The sound of the upper stall door swinging open distracted her from her plans. Her body went rigid as she hid her face against Orin’s neck once more. The barn was so close and she was expecting the worst.  
“Inquisitor?” Vivienne’s voice was soft. “I thought I would find you here.”  
“Is it safe to come out?” Lana picked herself up from The warm support of Orin.  
“Yes, the crowd has cleared.” Vivienne cocked her head to one side thoughtfully, her hands on her slender hips. Her tone was less detached than usual. She was being sincere, then.“You look awful my dear. When I saw you run off with your antlered demon you were so pale. I grew worried. Are you quite alright?”  
“No.” Lana shook her head, tossing the brush aside. She could trust Vivienne; that had been proven yet again today. “I don’t wish to remain in Skyhold any longer than necessary. I can’t stand being here right now .”  
“Blackwall?” Vivienne nearly whispered the name, leaning in so her voice would not carry into the barn. Lana guessed the Warden was within ear shot, then.  
“How did you know?” Lana seemed to sag in on herself; her shoulders dropped and her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “Does everyone know?”  
“No. Not everyone knows. Your true friends are masters of discretion, my darling.As to how I know… I, too, have been a young woman in love.” Vivienne stepped closer, brushing Lana’s blood-matted hair back out of her face as best as she could. Her fingertips were cool and comforting. Lana did not flinch away. “It’s the hardest emotion to hide. That, and Dorian has expressed his concern, which confirmed my suspicions.”  
Now, Lana blushed red-hot. “Fantastic.”  
“I can offer you this: talk with captain Helanie in the morning. Allow yourself tonight, and the Captain will give you the excuse you need to get out of Skyhold for some fresh air. You’ve pushed yourself hard. Keep pushing, and you will find yourself on the other end of this crush.”  
Crush. _Crush_. That’s all it was. That’s all it had ever been. It was back to the mighty Inquisitor, reduced to tears by a _maker-fucking crush._  
“I will.” Lana promised halfheartedly, the prospect of a night in Skyhold’s stony embrace seeming daunting. “It’s better than decapitating another dragon.”  
“Good. That being said…” Vivienne straightened. “…I told her to expect you. If you do not clean up before you speak with her, I shall never forgive you.”

Lana had made it through the main hall without much of an incident, thankfully. The Orleasians visiting from Val Royeaux had given her a wide berth and snickered under their breath, but who cares? None of them had fought so much as a dust bunny, let alone a high dragon. That, and with Madame de Fer on her arm she had little to worry about. Each noble that met Vivienne’s chilling gaze suddenly found the Inquisitor’s appearance considerably less funny. Lana had almost asked Vivienne to stay with her; the courtly practices of her youth making her long for a bedmate. Someone to braid her hair for her while they whispered secrets into the night. But she parted ways with Vivienne without having said a word of it; too fearful of even a polite rejection. Vivienne did give her a peck on the cheek before departing.  
“Find me if you need anything.” Madame de Fer had whispered into her ear. “Get some rest.”

Lana shut the door to her beloved quarters behind her. She finally made it up the ridiculous amount of stairs and mounted the tower room, taking in the scene. Everything was just as she had left it; tidy except for a few stray books left on her favorite sofa and a half-written letter to her parents she could never quite finish on the desk. This was wholly her place. The fine Free Marcher furniture she had imported made it feel like home. Like she was back in Ostwick. She had selected the stained glass and heavy tapestries that commanded the walls with care; even going as far as to commission the stained glass artist herself and housing them in Skyhold while they installed the ornate piece.  
She flung herself onto the bed; it was a large four poster affair made of heavy wood and heaped with fine cotton blankets and one massive bear pelt. She rolled onto her back to take in the canopy- another Free Marcher work depicting ravens, wings extended. Not since she was a little girl had she fallen asleep under a tapestry woven in the style of her homeland. It was both comforting, and a strange reminder of how much her life had changed.  
She kicked off her boots and worker her way out of her stiff robes, wrapping herself in the bear pelt as she went, to chase off any chill the open french doors let in. Fine, gauzy, curtains blew into the room on crisp drafts of fresh mountain air. Lana hated shutting them. Unless the weather was truly foul, she preferred to keep the tower well-aired.  
Lana raised from bed, dragging the bear pelt along behind her.  
With a wave, a fire blossomed in the hearth to chase off any residual cold. She lit each candle with a swift point as she strode by, breathing welcome dancing light. As she rounded back to the desk, she noticed an unfamiliar bottle. A scrap of neatly folded parchment was tucked beneath it.  
Lana picked up the bottle by the neck and read the note:

_My love, take this brandy as a token of my congratulations. Also, please drink it instead of that nauseating swill at the Tavern. Send word if you need anything further.  
-D _

Dorian’s blessing, then. Lana popped it open,pouring a delicate stream into the thoughtfully provided glass. She sipped at her drink, bringing it along into the small bathing room adjacent to her quarters. The brandy was a distraction, she knew. A tasty way to keep her upstairs and possibly to trick her into resting quietly. It was the expression of Dorian’s concern, and probably not a bad idea. What could a night in hurt? She could spend it reading by firelight. Like the good nights in the Circle, but with fewer Templars glaring over her shoulder…and a lot more liquor. Liquor could take the sting out of staying at Skyhold for just one night. Liquor to ease the aches in her battered body.

Lana shed the bear skin, casting it back onto her bed and bathed quickly. She left the clean water already drawn for her cold, allowing the gifted brandy to warm her from the inside instead. She worked the dried blood from her body and hair, before slipping from the now dark pink water. She left her tresses open to dry, working a comb through the length of it.  
The ritual was familiar, and seemed to enhance how quiet the night was. Lana basked in it, politely sipping her brandy. She dressed in something that wasn’t armor or robes, feeling the strong spirit begin to whisk her away.  
A shift of movement outside on the balcony caught her attention. She lunged for her staff, propped on the wall by the bed, letting the glass of brandy drop to the rug in exchange.  
She snapped into a casting stance, the flames in the hearth and on the candles flaring in response.  
Blackwall emerged from the darkness, worry creasing his face.  
“What?” Lana deflated, her staff joining the brandy glass on the rug. The fires around her ebbed low, the room darkening. “What are you doing here?”  
She wanted to scream. To demand he leave. Once again, he had found her while she was licking the wounds she had allowed her feelings for him to inflict upon her.  
“I wanted to thank you.” Blackwall held up his hands, as though Lana were a spooked horse. “I never thanked you. For the artifacts. For accompanying me to that ruin…” He lowered his hands, looking her over almost desperately. Like she would vanish if he didn’t take all of her in. “Lana, the dragon…everything that’s happened…I just had to see you. I couldn’t stay away. Lana the _dragon_. I was so _worried_.”  
Lana felt herself closing the distance between them, and when Blackwall noticed, he did they same.  
They met in the middle. Lana’s hands went into Blackwall’s thick, black hair pulling his mouth to hers. The Warden’s strong hands flatted out across the small of her back, pulling her against him.  
They fit together perfectly.  
Blackwall began to sink into her, to relent… to succumb to the call he felt whenever Lana was out of sight…but he caught himself and withdrew.  
“No. This is wrong.” He was talking fast, stammering even as he began to walk backwards, back to the stairs. “I…I shouldn’t even be here.”  
“It doesn’t _feel_ wrong.” Lana insisted, reluctant to let her arms slide from around him. Seconds ago, she had wanted to light him on fire. Now, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere but with him. To her, being with him was the rightest feeling there was. She was a moth, drawn to his flame, and happy to burn in him. She matched his steps, reaching for him.  
“I want to give in” Blackwall shook his head, refusing to look at her. It was the night at the waterfall all over again. “Maker knows how much I wish I could. I’m not what you want. I could never be…what you _deserve_.”  
“You’re wrong.” Lana caught him, lifting his face to look at her gently. She wasn’t going to let him hurt both of them this time. “You’re noble, you’re honorable and true. You fight for what you believe in, You’re a good man.”  
“Am I?” The sadness in his pale eyes shook her to the bone.  
“I can see it.” Lana needed him to believe her.  
“There’s nothing I can offer you. You’d have no life with me.” Blackwall pulled from her grasp, taking her by the shoulders, giving her a small shake to convey his desperate seriousness. “I-I need you to end this, Lana. Because I can’t.”  
Lana’s green eyes set. No. She would not end this. All that his doubt and refusal of what they had together had done was cause them both pain. That was clear now. The Blackwall before her was as pale as the moon, with heavy bags under his sad eyes. He had been just as torn to pieces over what happened on the ramparts as she was. She wasn’t going to allow him to keep them apart.  
“I’m…I’m not letting you go, Blackwall. Not now. Not ever.” The words came out of her mouth unbidden. She meant them.  
“We’ll regret this, My Lady.” Blackwall murmured while he searched her eyes for any sign of doubt. He found none.  
Lana kissed him. One kiss, pure and sweet.  
“Do you regret that?” She whispered into his ear softly upon withdrawing her mouth from his.  
Blackwall responded by winding one hand in her hair, and pulling her against him. He returned her kiss, his tongue darting past her parted lips to taste her mouth in earnest. She disarmed completely, losing herself in him. At last.  
Blackwall’s free hand slid down her back to grip her ass. He groaned softly into her mouth, kneading her soft flesh hungrily. He began to push her to the foot of her canopied bed, his grip on the hair at the back of her head tightening as he guided her.  
Lana went willingly, thrilling in his impatience. As he laid her on her back on the soft bear skin, he pushed their hips together. She could feel his hot arousal on her thigh and moaned into his mouth, arching her back to encourage him.  
He pulled her by the hair to break off their passionate kiss.  
“Are you sure, My Lady?” He asked the question like a gentleman, but everything about him burned like a predator.  
“Yes. Please. I’ve wanted this…remember the waterfall?”  
Blackwall smirked rakishly. “I intend to make up for the waterfall. If you’ll have me.”  
“Does this answer your question?” Lana reached between them, undoing the clasps on her tunic and pulling it open. She exposed her full, pale breasts to the cool air, nipples already hard.  
“It does.” Blackwall took a moment to admire her, pushing his weight against her before dipping down to take one pink nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, twirling his tongue around the tip playfully. He released her hair to cup her other breast, kneading the soft flesh with zeal.  
Lana came alive under him, groaning with pleasure. She ground her pelvis against him.  
“Please.” She panted, voice thick with lust, begging him again.  
Blackwall seemed to hesitate. For a moment. Lana feared hearing the dreaded ‘I cant’. Instead, he released her breast with a soft, wet _pop_ and began to kiss her neck. One hand slid between her breasts and down her stomach, pulling her breeches open. She gasped as his fingers slipped over her mound and between her outer lips, stroking the slick, hot, and wet parts of her cunt.  
“Trust me.” He growled against her throat, running one finger up and down, across her sensitive clit and juicy opening. She tilted her head back, moaning softly in response. His hand came away slowly, but before Lana could whimper a protest Blackwall was working his way between her legs, pulling her breeches clear off and pulling her knees over his shoulders, spreading her open before him.  
“What are you…?” Lana tried to ask, watching him with surprise.  
“I said trust me.” Blackwall repeated, kissing the inside of her thighs. He moved in, kissing and licking her lips both inside and out. He tasted her in a new way, and Lana rode the waves of wild pleasure it brought her. Her hands gripped the collar of his doublet as he worked her; her head tilted back as soft cries of rapture tumbled from her. She was quick to lose herself in the stroke of her lover’s tongue and the way he sucked her now swollen clit. Never before had anyone performed such an erotic act on her; her sexual experiences before had been nearly one sided. This…was unreal.  
By the time she climaxed, she wore a sheen of sweat. She rolled her hips while she came, luxuriating in her orgasm before falling back, limp and satisfied.  
Lana pulled Black back up to her by his clothing, kissing his mouth, tasting herself on his lips and dully aware of his damp beard. It was so oddly perfect, so wonderfully new and exciting. There was no room for embarrassment in her clouded mind, only joy.  
Blackwall hugged her close, positioning her so he rested his chin on the top of her head. They stayed that way for a moment, both breathless, both happy to bask in the bliss that had been denied to them for so long.  
“What about you?” Lana asked softly, having finally caught her breath.  
“Oh, I had fun.” Blackwall sounded smug. “Don’t you worry, My Lady.”  
“Will you stay? Here? With me?”  
Blackwall didn’t respond for a long moment. Long enough for Lana to once again expect the dreaded ‘I cant’ to shatter the happiness he had instilled in her.  
“I’ll stay.” He murmured into her hair. Filling her with relief. “I couldn’t leave you if I wanted to.”  
Lana relaxed against him, succumbing to sleep without even noticing she had. Content at last.


	10. Wicked thoughts, Wicked actions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venture into the court ruled by sex, spectacle, and deceit.

Falling out of the fade for the second time had left Lana wiser. She now approached the challenges of the Inquisition with more care, even if not with more tact.

 

“You want me to what?” Lana leaned over the war table, a sneer on her face.

“Attend the peace talks being held at the Winter Palace.” Josephine was unphased; she had grown accustomed to Lana’s less than ladylike presence when out of the public eye.SHarp banter and stinging wit were commonplace in the war room; but never serious. “Leliana heard whispers about a possible assassination attempt on Empress Celene.”

“But the first time we discussed it, there had been mention of a _masquerade._ ”

“Yes, inquisitor, A grand ball.”

“ _Orlesians._ ” Lana groaned, eyes rolling. “I forget how utterly exhausting your court is. ”

Cullen snorted on a laugh, turning away from the table somewhat quickly with a hand over his mouth. “That aside.” Lelianna wore a small, amused smile. “Josie here managed to get you an invitation as a guest to Duke Gaspard. You lucky thing. Naturally, you’ll be able to provide a small guarded escort for yourself which will, in turn, allow the Inquisition to look into the assassination attempt.”

“That is starting to sound more like a good time.” Lana grinned. “ You had me worried this would be a night of dancing and Orlesian double talk. But tell me, why is the Inquisition so concerned for Celene?”

“We are worried Corypheous will use the upheaval of the empire and the consequent chaos to attack.” Josephine replied. “And also, we are suspicious Gaspard could have some connection to all of this.”

“The jilted cousin? I would bet on that.” Lana shook her head. “Alright. I’ll give. I had sworn off courtly affairs ages ago…but for you, anything Josephine.”

 

”This is a delicate matter, Inquisitor.” Josephine was oddly serious, almost stern. “The way you present yourself is a direct representation of the Inquisition. I worry your experience at court is…still lacking despite your… upbringing.”

“A fair assessment.” Lana acceded to Josephine’s point grudgingly. She masked her injury at the criticism of her manners; standing up and putting a hand on one hip.“But I’m sure Vivienne would be willing to see to the mere polishing my etiquette requires.””

“We did tap her in regards to updating your dress and attire. You need more than just polishing in your fashion choices..” Leliana’s smile grew

“I could use an update.” Lana’s jaw clenched. “But I do not lack in taste, Mistress of Maille.”

“You were wearing a wolf pelt yesterday!” Cullen snorted, near laughter again. “You dress like an Avvar tribesman!”

“Fur is in. I’ll wear a wolf pelt to the Grand Ball to prove it.” Lana’s eyebrow raised sharply. She leaned her weight back on one leg,, crossing her arms and raising her chin. Issuing a challenge.“Don’t tempt me, Commander. The next season all of the rest of those pr…” Lana almost said ‘prissy’. Josephine glared holes into her and she changed her mind. “…pr…proud nobles will all be wearing wolf pelts.”

“I dare you.” Cullen grinned, crossing his own arms and chuckling.

“Cullen…” Josephine warned, tone low.

“Oh, Lady Ambassador. Look at her. It’s already too late!” Leliana finally giggled. “One stipulation, Inquisitor.”

“What would that be, Lady Nightingale?”

“Madame de Fer helps.”

 

Vivienne used the days before the ball very wisely. She was as efficient in preparing Lana for her Halamshiral debut as she was on the battlefield. For days the Imperial Enchanter had Lana walking, talking, and dancing to a strict set of rules. Everywhere Lana went, Vivienne attended her, pinching her inner arm if the Fire Mage made any sort of slip.

Lana had in turn, become a polished jewel of courtly poise.

“We’re lucky my Tailor in Val Royeaux can work miracles.” Vivienne watched on from the chaise in her room at Skyhold while the tailor’s apprentice took Lana’s measurements.

“Yes, I know we are low on time.” Lana was focused mostly on holding perfectly still while the pretty elven apprentice worked. “If I would have known I would have timed Adamant better.”

Vivienne’s smile was small, but it lit her eyes. “Oh don’t play with me, Inquisitor. Your gown will have to be simple in design…but I think you have the figure to mix things up at court. Maker knows we’ll already be the subject of most of the evening’s whispers. May as well add ‘ radiant’ and ‘beautiful’ in next to ‘possible heretic’.”

“I appreciate that thought, Vivienne.”

“Have you considered which of your allies will directly attend you?” Vivienne poured a glass of rose colored wine, sipping delicately, her fingers cradling the glass with an easy perfection.

“You, naturally.” Lana’s eyes distanced in thought. “Both as you would enjoy it, and that as a mage, I would like The Imperial Enchanter at my side.”

The apprentice finished her measurements, and began to lay scraps of different fabrics out on the table before Vivienne. Lana walked with the light-footed grace of a doe and eased herself onto the chaise next to Vivienne in one, smooth, graceful, movement. Her week of tortuous ‘refresher lessons’ had paid off.

“A wise choice.” Vivienne Poured Lana a glass of pink wine; who held it in the same perfect grip as her mentor. “And who else?”

“Cassandra.” Lana went on. “She is a known face. The Hero of Orlais to further help ease the transition of the dread Inquisitor into Court.”

“You are good at this, my dear.” Vivienne clinked glasses with her.

“Oh, you wont like the last two. Which is why I have already extended the request.” Lana smiled while she sipped her wine, enjoying the glare she earned from Vivienne.

“Serpent. Who?” Vivienne both accused and demanded.

“The Iron Bull.” Lana almost couldn’t say it, nearly dissolving into laughter at Vivienne’s look of sheer horror. “Vivienne, Vivienne, please. Let me finish. The Iron Bull for his Ben-Hassrath experience. Don’t say it. He’s tal-vashoth now. It’s fine. The only thing the Qunari have to do with this is that is what everyone at the ball will be whispering about Bull. He’s clever, he sees things, and it will remind the nobility of the range of Allies the Inquisition commands.”

“I do wish we could have talked this over, my dear.” Vivienne swirled her glass, refusing to look at Lana. “I’m almost afraid to ask about the last one. Is it Dorian? The Magister’s son just to really set people on edge?”

“No, Dorian refused immediately. He was my first choice over Bull.” Lana crossed one leg over the other with the smooth control of a dancer. “ Warden Blackwall is my last choice.”

Vivienne looked up from the fabric swatches to roll her eyes. “Blessed Andraste, I should have known. One night with him and he’s back in your good graces. For the first time, I found myself agreeing with the Iron Bull. Isn’t that just bleak? The Iron Bull, making sense?”

 

Vivienne, of course, referred to a snippet of conversation between Bull and Blackwall both mages had bore witness to while chipping away at rifts in Crestwood:

 

Dorian had caught Lana and Blackwall kissing in the stables. The Inquisitor’s love life was far from public knowledge, but after that, the dynamic between the Qunari and the Warden had changed.

“Something’s funny about you.” Bull growled, watching Blackwall ahead of him with eyes sharper than a silverite sword and a tone to match.

“Oh?” Blackwall seemed unperturbed.

“Yeah. You talk about Grey Wardens and honor and sacrifice and _griffons._ But you’re still not convinced.” The Iron Bull used the same swift talking, confident tone he always did when he was speaking ‘ben-hassrath’ and dissecting someone’s motive.

“Not _convinced_?” The Qunari was obviously striking a nerve with Blackwall now. The Warden stopped walking and faced Bull.

“Yes. You know what I mean.” Bull did not back down. It would have been peculiar if he did.

“And you know this because?” Blackwall stood his ground, even when faced with Bull’s bulk.

_“I’m a people person.”_ The Iron Bull had snarled.

 

Back at Skyhold and in the present, Lana shook her head. “I know. I spoke to Bull about that. I told him I appreciated his concern for the Inquisition and for myself, but If Blackwall had wanted to do harm, he would have by now.”

For crying out loud, he had gotten Lana naked. A more than adequate to slip a knife into her.

“That aside, do you want them working together?” Vivienne held a few swatches up to Lana’s face, handing her favorite back to the apprentice.

“It will be fine. Bull agreed that until I asked him to, He would leave Blackwall alone and continue working with him despite his ‘brain numbing suspicions’.” Lana cast her eyes into her lap. “I don’t get it. Blackwall is nothing but loyal.”

“I don’t doubt that, Inquisitor.” Vivienne passed a small bag of coins to the apprentice. “ But there is just something about him I cannot shake.”

The Nightmare’s voice in the fade echoed in Lana’s head: _And you are nothing like a Grey Warden._

The apprentice accepted the coins and Vivienne’s thanks, gathering her things and leaving. Lana waited for the young elf to leave before continuing. “Please, just let me have this. I won’t make a public announcement and present him as my paramour. I won’t even dance with him.”

Vivienne sighed, shaking her head. “You poor, love sick, thing. Fine. But only because he was a better choice than that Sera to bring to the Winter Palace. One potential assassin is enough.”

“Sera would prefer arson.” Lana assured Vivienne with a smirk.

 

The Morning of the Ball, Lana’s dress arrived. As Lana was packing to head to Vivienne’s small winter Chateau (a Gift from her lover, Bastien de Ghislain) In Halamshiral to dress, Vivienne let herself up into her quarters. In the Enchanter’s arms was a folded bundle, wrapped in heavy paper.

“Your gown, Inquisitor. With not a moment to spare.” Vivienne practically purred.

“Its here? May I look?” Lana tossed the delicate slippers Vivienne had given her previously into her bag.

“I think I would rather you be surprised.” Vivienne crossed the room, gently tucking the bundle into the same bag as the slippers. “Didn’t you wish to add a specific element?”

Lana grinned like a madwoman, lifting a heavy stole of thick, raven black fur into the bag. “Yes, I did. Isn’t it lovely? I’m looking forward to making Cullen choke on his dare.”

“Goodness.” Vivienne’s brow furrowed as she stroked the obsidian pelt. “You mentioned the stole…I assumed rabbit, maybe fennec. Is this wolf?”

“I killed it myself.” Lana ‘s regal expression made the statement as casual as if it belonged in the vocabulary of a noble-born woman.

“Do not say that at the ball.” Vivienne’s eyes narrowed. “Promise me or the stole stays.”

“I promise.” Lana crossed her heart playfully. “I will not speak of killing and skinning wolves while in the Winter Palace.”

 

After a few hours of travel they arrived at Vivenne’s chateau. Vivienne and Lana had spent the voyage in bored splendor; encased in a carriage borrowed from an eager noble ally pulled by a matched set of glossy dapple grays horses. It was beautiful, all painted white wood and gilded details with velvet seats as blue as midnight,but it had bored Lana to death. She had longed to ride as Bull, Blackwall, and the rest of their company did.

By the time the coach clattered to a stop ad the door opened, she was almost too stiff to walk. Vivienne, fortunately, had agility enough to politely instruct her servants to send the bags ahead and push Lana seemingly, directly into a bath tub.

There, Lana was scrubbed from head to toes. Her hair was pulled loose, washed in fragrant soaps, and brushed through with perfume. She relaxed into the process, almost enjoying it. Having been raised in a similar world, she held oddly few reservations about being handled this way while naked.

Servants dried her with soft towels, and presented her with a perfumed cream for her skin. Lana worked the cream in herself, relishing in the satiny feel of her skin when she was done.

Then, came the primping. Thankfully, Vivienne had them skip some of the heavy Orlesian makeup, opting instead to paint her lips a soft pink and swipe sparkling gold over her eyelids. Her lashes were coated in what seemed to be black paint until they were dramatic and long. Blush was patted on her cheeks. Her hair was curled, and the mass of it was pulled back into a long, cascading ponytail. Simple, but it showcased the catlike shape of her eyes and sculpted features.

Lana was startled by the beautiful woman who looked back at her in Vivienne’s full length mirror.

“Vivienne.” She breathed, eyes wide. “It’s amazing. I’m amazing.”

Vivienne looked thoughtful. “It is good, isn’t it? And you’re not even dressed yet, my dear.”

 

The dress they slid over Lana was cascading hunter green velvet, darker than her eyes. It’s neckline dropped from two points at the shoulders, to a deep v that stopped at her breastbone. It’s dark color made her pale skin glow like moonlight. It fell directly down to the floor, a slit opening up the front that would flash one leg as she walked. Over her left shoulder, a servant draped the wolf stole and belted it into place with a green velvet tie.

“This explains why the slippers are so boring.” Lana admired her reflection. “I guess If I must run, I could tie the skirt up.”

“you’ll figure it out.” Vivienne assured her. “Now, to the carriage and the Ball.”

 

Before Lana could enter the coach, a white glove caught her hand. She turned to find Blackwall, seemingly awestruck as he looked at her over.

“My Lady, you are absolutely radiant.” He breathed kissing her hand. “A vision in green and…is that pelt from the Redcliffe farm pack we took out?”

Lana caught his other hand in hers. “Yes it is. I can’t wait t get this over with.” She leaned in to whisper into his ear. “And maybe spend some time with you.”

Blackwall kissed her cheek softly, matching her tone. “Be careful what you wish for. I’ll have that dress off.”

“Inquisitor!” Vivienne snapped from the carriage, breaking the moment. “We can wait to be fashionably late after we arrive!”

Blackwall helped Lana into the coach. “See you soon, My Lady.”

 

The Winter Palace was splendid and bustling with nobles in masks. Lana arrived with her people, pausing the scan the crowd. Her posture was perfect. Straight back, square shoulders, and hips rolled forward. Her left hand lightly stroked the shining wolf stole. Cullen had actually some what apologized when he saw the pelt, so that had been a victory. She had begun to hear the whispers already:

_A mage._ They hissed. _Used to be a Noblewoman. The Fire Mage._

She swallowed a heavy sigh. Inquisitor did pop up, so an improvement.

A man in a golden mask who sounded like Duke Gaspard emerged.

“Inquisitor!” The thick Orlesian accent scraped Lana’s ears. Yes, Gaspard then.

“Good evening, Your Grace.” Lana’s regal posture was complimented by her pleasantly articulate manner of speech. Her words were as smooth as the silk in the Duke’s well tailored frock coat. “I thank you for inviting both the Inquisition and myself as your guests.”

Gaspard grinned a wicked grin, taking Lana’s arm. He seemed eager to parade her about all Halamshiral.

“Please, Inquisitor, Duke Gaspard will suffice. The honor is all mine.” Gaspard insisted. “Forgive me for saying but, I had no idea the Dragon of Ostwick was so beautiful.”

There it was. The missing nickname. Lana smiled coyly instead of scowling. “I will take that as a compliment, Duke Gaspard. But please, Inquisitor Trevelyan will suffice. ”

Duke Gaspard barked a sharp laugh, pulling Lana away and into the throng of nobles. He lead her by the arm, but Lana felt like a leashed animal. A curious pet the Duke was showing off before sending to his menagerie. She was very aware of the growing distance between herself and her companions; especially Blackwall. The Warden had watched the Duke take her arm with scarcely contained loathing.

Gaspard introduced her around, and Lana seemed to dazzle all of Halamshiral with her confident, engaging, behavior. The persona many a tutor had begun to instill in her in her youth was now in full bloom after Vivienne’s coaching. Lana was charming.Lana was beguiling and coyly seductive. Lana was clever and well spoken. She was anything and everything she needed to be.

Gaspard, obviously pleased with his pet, finally released her in the vestibule of the Winter Palace. She had just enough time to check in with her advisers, mainly Josephine.

“Lady Ambassador.” Lana was carefully aloof as she approached Josephine, a flute of champagne twined in her fingers.

“Inquisitor.” Even Josephine seemed different. “You’re doing very well. I’m very glad you took your time with Madame de Fer seriously. I will tell you that I did take a moment to warn the Bull of our behavioral expectations of him.”

Nobody was pleased with Lana for bringing The Iron Bull. Not even Bull himself.

“I invited him as an intimidation tactic.” Lana gently reminded her. “Not for his sterling etiquette.”

“Oh I understand.” Josephine assured her. “It is just… these people will latch onto any weakness. It would be a shame if our intimidation factor fell victim to that practice.”

“Very true…am I honestly doing well?” Lana let her facade slip away, just an inch.

“Vivienne’s tailor just made fashion history.” Josephine shared a secret smile. “And If the Black wolves of Thedas go extinct, at least Orlesian nobility will be able to emulate the Inquisitor. I promise, Inquisitor, you are representing your cause well thus far.”

“Am I ready to meet the empress?” Lana asked.

“Almost.” Leliana and Cullen approached. Leliana had been the one to answer. “I have a proposition. With this assassination threat, we are in an interesting place to possibly decide the future of the empire.”

Lana arched one eyebrow. “Go on.”

“The only thing we need to leave these peace talks tonight is continued stability.” Leliana continued. “And Celene isn’t the only option to give us that outcome. As long as the empire has a leader at the end of tonight, we can decide who that is.”

Lana blinked in surprise. “You can’t be asking me to do what I think you are.”

“It can be as simple as stopping the assassination.” Cullen assured her, shooting Leliana a dubious look. “Or as grand as maneuvering your preferred politician into position to mop up the blood.But yes. The choice is yours…we don’t have all night, but take a moment to think of who you would back.”

“I…I guess I’ll let you know.” Lana shrugged once, before returning to her haughty posture. “Now, shall we?”

 

“Now presenting, Inquisitor Lana Trevelyan! Lady of Ostwick, and representing the Ostwick circle of Magi!” Rang out across the ballroom, summoning Lana to across the vast marble dance floor and approach Empress Celene. Hundreds of eyes watched as her velvet gown flowed about and behind her; one milk white thigh flashing out from under it with every step. As she focused on maintaining the seamlessly sexual swing to her hips, the next court introduction caught her ear:

“Warden Blackwall of Val Chevin!” The court herald called down the marble dance floor. “Bearer of the Silverite Wings of Honor!”

Silverite wings of what? In all of their conversations, Lana didn’t remember him mentioning any medal of honor.She masked her confusion in a smooth, softly sultry, expression. As she swept into a refined curtsy to greet the empress, she made a note to ask Blackwall about it.

“The Winter palace is breathtaking. It is twice as glorious as anything back home in Ostwick.” Lana smiled openly through her words.

“Why thank you, inquisitor, your presence is like a cool breeze on a summer day. Please, enjoy the masquerade.” Celene gushed, but did not simper. Lana knew this was a woman who did not submit to the will of others.

Finally set free, Lana went in search of Blackwall. Being in the court was beginning to fray her nerves, but she kept her image of the confident Lady Inquisitor in place easily. Her proud Trevelyan features were the only mask she needed.

As she wove through the crowd, she nodded politely to every “Lady Trevelyan” and “Lady Inquisitor” that came her way.For the time being, she seemed to be the Belle of the Ball.

From the vestibule, she hung a left into the Hall of Heroes. It was quieter here, away from the champagne fueled celebration of the rest of the ball. If Blackwall were anywhere, she supposed it would be somewhere out of the way such as this. Candles were clustered around pillars of cream colored marble, casting flickering shadows on the walls a ceiling, as though the hall itself were on fire. The whole grand room had an ominous, almost haunted feeling to it. Lana lit a few candles that had gone out, hoping to brighten such a dark place, but to no avail.

Golden statues, larger than life, loomed overhead; the dancing candlelight making appear to be moving or breathing. As Lana wove around them, and began to descend the few white marble steps to a lower level of smaller figures, she heard voices.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” A stranger’s voice, definitely Orlesian, echoed off the marble. “Ah! Lord Rudalt de Lancre…I’ve seen you in this company before, no?”

“I…don’t think we’ve met, my lord. I’m just a Grey Warden.” Blackwall replied curtly, trying to end the conversation..

Lana stopped in her tracks before she could be spotted to eavesdrop

“A Grey Warden? Odd. Your face is so familiar!” The Nobleman prodded on, slurring around his accent. “Around the eyes, especially…maybe without the beard…”

“I assure you, my lord, I do not know you.” Blackwall growled low. Dangerous.

“More wine!” The Noble blurted, not noticing the edge of anger in the Warden’s voice. “It will come to me with more wine!”

The Nobleman stumbled away, going after his wine. Lana descended the stairs when he was well out of sight.

“Blackwall.” She purred his name, smiling.

“My lady.” Blackwall’s tone lost its edge as he saw her, reaching out to hold her by the waist. He still sounded shaken, but no longer agitated. “I am eager to be done with this. Let’s save the empress and get back to where things are normal.”

Lana smoothed one hand down his cheek, tilting her head as she searched his face. “I’ve missed you. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.” Blackwall radiated a nervous intensity. He gripped her almost too tightly.

“How did you receive the Silverite Wings of Valor? That is such a high honor, and we’ve never spoken of it.” Lana smoothed away a stray lock of his dark hair from his forehead.

Blackwall went rigid at that. He seemed taken aback, as though Lana had insulted him. “It was a long time ago. Back when we didn’t stop and make a big deal out of everything. We just humbly accepted things and carried on.” He let go of her waist, and jerked away from her fingertips.

Lana caught his hands,facing him and refusing to let him back away completely. “I’m proud of you.” She insisted. “And all of your accomplishments, Warden. We had just never spoken of it before.” I had another question.”

Blackwall succumbed to her touch, allowing himself to be pulled back in. “I’m sorry, My Lady. I am just a bit on edge here. Please, ask me anything.”

“Will you save me a dance tonight?” Lana asked softly, almost whispering.

He touched his forehead to hers. “All of them. I’ll save all of my dances for you.” He breathed.

Lana kissed his mouth but once before releasing him. “I’ll get to work.”

 

The rest of the night, as the masquerade went to hell in a handbasket around them, Lana forced herself to ignore Blackwall’s nervousness. He seemed jumpy and quick to anger. It did prove useful, however,against both the Venatori that challenged them, and in battling the demons Duchess Florianne summoned. In both instances, by the time Lana got her velvet skirt tied up out of the way the field had been cleared of foes. The most Lana had to do was seal a rift.

When the smoke cleared in the wildfire that was the peace talks and Grand Ball, Empress Celene and Briala had been reconciled, and the drunk Gaspard had been executed. Lana hadn’t even realized what happened until she was addressing the entire court, her new allies by her side. In her clearest voice, she mashed words together like ‘unity’ and ‘alliance’ and ‘victory’ until everyone cheered.

Losing Gaspard’s mind for battle would hurt in the short term; it was true. But one less war monger in the world would benefit Orlais after Corypheous was dealt with. That, and Celene meant continued advancement in learning and the arts as well as peace in the short term…and with Briala by the empress’ side, the elves also stood a chance… A success, all things considered. The Inquisitor had played the Game and won, it seemed.

It had all happened so quickly, truth be told, that Lana hadn’t even remembered untying her skirt.

 

After speeches had been delivered, the soiree exploded into a boisterous debauch. Laughter and dancing took over the floor where malicious scheming had once reined supreme.

Lana slipped outside, away from the revelry as quickly as possible. She found an empty balcony, blessedly void of well wishers and leaned over the railing, letting her eyes shut.

It was over. Sure, Florianne would need to be dealt with, but for now the Ball was the grand soiree it had been destined to be, and Orlais, for the moment was safe. Lana took in lung fulls of night air, grateful for a reprieve

Music drifted onto the balcony and was muffled again, indicating the door behind her had opened and shut. Lana rose, prepared to charm her way out of socializing. She turned and found herself face-to-face with Blackwall.

“Am I intruding, My Lady?” Blackwall asked, coming to join her on the railing.

The way he spoke the words My Lady shook Lana to the core. He made her feel like a true Lady when he said them; somehow infusing them with the strength of a noble title.

“Never.” She gave him a tired smile. “I’m just thinking it all over. It’s been a long night, but I am glad to see you.”

“In that case…” Blackwall swept into a low, formal, bow, one white gloved hand extended to her. “Lady Trevelyan, may I have this dance?”

Lana took his hand, welling with scarcely contained joy. “I would be honored, Warden Blackwall.”

Blackwall rose, pulling her close to him, one hand on the small of her back, the other wrapping around her fingers.

Lana rested her cheek on his strong shoulder, losing herself as they spun slowly. The dances Vivienne had hammered into her were forgotten. Replaced by the easy rhythm Blackwall set. He moved with a noble’s easy grace, dipping her low and easing her back up to hold her close. Something in the moment contained a romantic magic that Lana found irresistible.

Blackwall must have also fell under the same spell, as within moments, they were kissing; slow and soulful. Shortly after, they had given up on their dance completely. Right there on the balcony, Blackwall was cupping Lana’s ass, and Lana was working her hands under the back of his immaculate military uniform, fingers spreading across the rippling muscles of his shoulders. She scratched down his back gently, earning a low growl from him against her mouth.

In a flash, he moved her away from the glass doors and into a darkened corner of the balcony, spinning her around to lean her over the railing.

“Here?”Lana gasped, feeling the skirt of her velvet gown lifted as Blackwall pulled it up, exposing her entire backside to the cool night air. She was not unwilling; the heat radiated from between her legs attested to that. “What if someone…?”

“Shhh.” Blackwall cooed, leaning over her, grinding his hips against her rounded ass. He kissed her neck possessively, whispering against the skin. “Don’t make a sound, and nobody will.”

One of his strong hands wound in Lana’s thick Ponytail, pulling her head back and throwing a curve in her lower back and thrusting her breasts forward. Lana bit her lip, stifling a groan. She heard the sound of Blackwall’s belt buckle as the Warden fumbled with it. A shudder wracked her body in anticipation. The next time Blackwall pushed against her, she felt the hot bare skin of his member rub against her inner thigh; thick and hard. 

Again, she bit her lip, shivering with the electric current of arousal that coursed through her entire body. She rocked back, pushing against him in encouragement, feeling her hair pull tighter as she moved. Finally. At last, she would have him.

Music spilled onto the balcony.

Blackwall moved fast, covering them both and pulling her upright as a jovial band of merry makers spilled out onto the balcony. The Warden positioned himself behind the dazed Inquisitor, an arm around her, letting the crowd mill around them.

“I’m sorry.” Lana spoke softly, only for Blackwall to hear. The din of party-goers kept the conversation private. “What an awful interruption.”

“No, do not apologize.” Blackwall seemed to have gained a great deal more composure. “I got carried away. That was inappropriate of me...I…I should treat you like a true Lady, not a…well…I am the one who owes you the apology.”

Lana had been so close…now he seemed to have retreated back into himself. She turned to look at him, and saw guilt. Before she could say more, Vivienne and Josephine appeared.

Josephine was jovial, giggling with champagne and leaning on the Imperial enchanter. Lana had never seen the usually collected Lady Montilyet in anything less than complete sobriety. The ambassador was by no means slurring and stumbling, but any amount of intoxication was a surprise.

Vivienne looked Lana and Blackwall over suspiciously.

“Having fun?” Madame de Fer asked cooly.

“A lovely time.” Lana smiled her best, fakest, smile; casting her disappointment at both the interruption and Blackwall’s retreat aside for the time being. “But I’m afraid now that the excitement is over, I find myself ready for bed.”

“As one would expect from the now legendary Inquisitor.” Vivienne caught Josephine by the arm before the ambassador could flutter away. “All of us who are not inebriated share your ideas on finishing the evening, my dear. I came to round you and your…” She looked Blackwall up and down, choosing her next word. “…companion. It’s time we exited the Winter Palace before someone makes a fool out of us all.”

“Allow me to lead the way.” Lana insisted, working her way towards the Palace gates and away from what had to have been the longest night of her life to date.

They paused every few feet to bid some courtier or another farewell. Lana kept playing the Game, kept charming and smiling her way across the winter Palace- but always kept moving. She refused to actually stop walking for more than a few seconds at one time.

Blackwall followed close behind her the whole way; not touching her, except for the occasional arm around her waist when no one was watching.

Not all was lost, then.

The Warden even saw to helping her into the carriage when their group finally made it outside, kissing her hand and allowing his lips to linger for a moment longer than what was polite.

No, not all was lost indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes are at the end because they contain a spoiler. This is my favorite quest. But, as a ps4 fangirl, I have to suffer through the…*shivers* nutcracker outfits. So thanks for letting me indulge in the personal touches I added to what I cared to highlight of the quest. Plus, the conversation with the nobleman? Actually happens. I felt it added so much to the romance storyline. Also, they use mascara in the character creator screen so I used it here.


	11. Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More tender than affairs of the heart are affairs of the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've all waited for so long. Pardon the long chapter. I promise it's worth it.

After the events at the Winter Palace and the long ride home, Lana agreed to a day’s rest at Skyhold at the strong insistence of her bedraggled companions.Lana numbered among those exhausted ranks; waking dazed and alone in her quarters with a blinding headache. Halamshiral, the Ball, and what had almost been on the balcony weighed heavily on her mind.  
Why was fucking the Warden so foremost on her mind? Blackwall was still just at the end of her fingertips; he had nearly succumbed to what she knew they both felt. . But whenever they danced along the edge of joining; of that solid undeniable act, he pulled them away from it and retreated back into himself.  
The only retreat the Warden ever chose, was that of is heart. Regardless of what he felt, he was still hiding from her.  
She remembered the intensity of him on the balcony. The need that made him grab her hair and force her down. He wanted her. Yet, want was always eclipsed by guilt. Making sense of it made her head pound even more.

Lana rubbed her eyes and massaged her temples, sitting up in bed with a groan. Coming home, Dorian had insisted on a small victory party in the tavern.  
Someone knew her weakness was wine; a cask had been provided as a gift to the inquisition for saving the empress. It had tasted so good. The world had seemed so warm, even if the Warden had chosen to skip festivities and left her to laugh with Dorian, Bull, Krem, and Sara.   
By the end of the night, Dorian was all caught up on every small detail of the masquerade…even the balcony. He had listened, and she was sure he had said something like Let it go, Lana. But, surely ,Dorian knew she couldn’t do that?  
Blackwall hadn’t left her mind since she had heard his belt buckle pop open behind her. She couldn’t get it out of her head.  
Lana forced herself up and out of bed, stumbling to splash her face with cool water and pulling on clothes. Maybe seeing him would help. She hopped into her boots as she went down the stairs, pausing at the door to the main hall to stretch. Was she really going to the barn? No. Of course not. She could go to the stables and he would be in the Barn. From there, it wouldn’t look like she had gone to him. She wouldn’t seem desperate to see him. Lana decided that was the perfect plan as she walked on light feet and a straight back down the hall and outside. Her carriage was in complete contrast to her pounding head and tired body. She was grateful for the Stables by the time she found them. The bright sun was sapping the life out of her.   
She sat on a bale of Hay outside Orin’s stall, collecting herself. This was it. She was going to glance up, and see the Warden wood carving.  
Lana glanced up.   
The Warden was standing with his back to her, carving the wooden griffon he had been working on since he came to Skyhold. Lana marveled at him; He was dressed in a simple rough shirt. After having seen him in armor so regularly, Lana amused herself thinking this was as close to naked as she had gotten him. He was so well muscled from a life of battle. His thick arms and broad chest spoke of the raw strength he possessed. Maker, he was beautiful. She needed to talk to him.  
“Good morning.” Lana leaned against the stable wall, smiling softly as she watched him turn to see her.  
“Why, good morning.” Blackwall set his carving tools down, and dusted his gloved hands.“Did you have a long night?”  
“I must look like hell.” Lana shook her head, giving a weak laugh. “I got carried away.”  
“I’ve been thinking.” Blackwall looked more worried than usual, his brow creased. He seemed unable to meet her gaze. “About the Winter Palace…and…would you be willing to go on an trip with me? Just me? To the Storm Coast.”  
A confused look crossed Lana’s face. “Of course. Is everything alright? Why the Storm Coast?”  
““I want to try to explain to you why…why I’ve been so…distant.” He spoke as though his words were difficult to say. “The Ramparts…the pool…you deserve to know. I hope you can forgive me for pushing you away.” Blackwall crossed the barn, offering her his hand.   
“When do you want to go?” Lana accepted his help up.  
“Soon.” The Warden finally looked at her, holding her hand tight. “The sooner the better.”  
“I’ll saddle Orin.” Lana found his almost desperate manner concerning.

The Storm Coast, at first, had been absolutely enchanting. After years in the Circle Tower, Lana had missed feeling rain on her skin.  
Now, Lana hated it. The rain doused every spell she cast, leaving her completely dependant on her spirit blade. She rode a wet and irritable Orin beside the silent Blackwall on a quiet gray gelding. The rode without speaking and Lana was grateful she had traded her robes for the lightweight Gray Warden mage armor. Secretly, she had hoped to earn Blackwall’s approval in her choice of attire. But presently the Warden was too consumed by whatever worry had brought them out to the coast to notice. At least her headache was gone.  
Orin picked his way with care across slick rocks, But Blackwall lead the way/  
He stopped short at the crest of a high hill that overlooked the churning, choppy, sea. He dismounted and scanned the area for a moment, before dropping to a crouch and digging at the wet soil. When he stood, he held something made of dark metal, brushing the mud off of it as best he could.  
Lana dismounted and tethered their mounts under a cluster of trees, patting Orin’s wet neck in apology before heading towards the Warden.  
“The Warden Constable’s Badge.” He mumbled, eyes hollow.  
“You mean your badge?” Lana ventured closer, offering him a smile.   
“Yes…” Blackwall kept the majority of his attention on the badge, turning it over absently. “…I suppose it must be. After all, I did earn it. I shouldn’t have let it go so easily.” He paced away from her, his back to her as he continued, barely audible over the pouring roar of rainfall. “This was my life before I met you. Crumbling ruins. Endless battles. Death.”  
“I have seen my fair share of ruins and death, too.” Lana longed to reach out and wrap her arms around his waist. She settled for coming to stand before him, offering a small smile. He was hurting. He wore the ache openly. “Maybe that means we’re perfect for each other.”  
“You tease.” He softened, returning a sad smile. “But…There is nothing left for me here. You mean so much to me. I Shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. I’m sorry I pushed you away.”  
“I want this.” Lana took both his hands in hers, winding their fingers together. Blackwall flinched under her touch, but she went on. “And I forgive you. I don’t know what the future holds. But I _want this_.”  
“Let’s go back.” Blackwall mumbled. “I could use a drink. Care to join me? I have a hankering for company.”

By the time they ambled back into Skyhold, night had fallen. It was oddly quiet within the keep’s walls; not a soul was in sight as she and Blackwall put away their mounts. They met at the door of the barn, sharing a deep, soulful kiss and winding their fingers together before walking to the tavern.  
Lana loved how easy it was to be with him. Since he had found his badge, he seemed renewed. A wall had come down, and they were finally together.  
The barkeep nodded at them as they entered.  
“I’m going to bed.” Cabot nodded at the bar. “Help yourself, Inquisitor. But please, don’t leave it a mess.”  
“Thank you, Cabot.” Lana peered around the empty room. “Is everyone in bed?”  
“Seems like. You kids have fun.” Cabot was a man of few words. He left them without anymore.  
Lana lit a few of the extinguished candles with a gesture and slipped behind the bar.  
“That never stops being amazing.” Blackwall marveled, watching her light the hearth nearby with a wave.   
“What?” Lana bent to find mugs behind the bar, hopeful for more of the wine from the night before.  
“The fire.” Blackwall waved a hand in the air. “You just…make it.”  
“I breathe it.” Lana settled for ale, turning to fill mugs for them.  
“That’s just a rumor.” The Warden watched her, resting his elbow on the bar top and his chin in his hand. “The Dragon of Ostwick, right?”  
“I suppose.” Lana gave a soft laugh, setting a brimming tankard before him and sipping at her own. After a few gulps, she explained. “I can make fire without a staff because I breathe it. I inhale until I feel a warm spot inside of myself, and while I exhale I focus that warmth, that energy and mana, out with the air. I spent a lot of time bored and starting fires in the Circle. I also got good at putting small fires back out. Small ones. Once they get big…I can only make them bigger.”  
Blackwall chuckled, beaming at her. “Thank you for earlier.For helping me find the badge.”  
“Of course. I’m glad you seemed to have a good idea where it was.” Lana leaned over the bar on her elbows.  
“With you by my side, I feel like I can accomplish anything.” Blackwall reached out, stroking her cheek.  
Lana leaned into his hand, eyes closing contentedly. The ‘warm spot’ inside of her where the fire was born grew warmer. She brimmed with love, pushing the feeling to him as she did with the flames.  
“want to go somewhere more private?” Lana asked, eyes still closed. She wholly expected a polite deflection.  
But the wall had come down.   
“My Lady, lead the way.” Blackwall grabbed her chin between his fingers, pulling her into a kiss. His tongue swiped the inside of her mouth hungrily before he drew away. Lana tasted the ale on his lips and didn’t care.  
With a wave, the candles and the fire in the hearth gutted out. Lana threw herself at the Warden once she was around the bar, locking lips with him again. She pressed her body to his, reveling in their perfect fit. Blackwall responded with zeal, crushing her against him with his muscular arms. When they parted, they were panting.  
“The loft.” Lana breathed, breaking away to pull him by the hand.

Once in the barn, Lana’s Warden pulled her close again, jerking her aggressively towards him. HIs hand went into her hair, pulling It out of the knot she kept it in and sinking his fingers into it. He pulled her head back, and bit her neck. He sucked the skin between his teeth, growling low as a shudder wracked Lana’s body, lust coursing through her already hot blood.  
His free hand yanked the toggles of her tunic open, exposing her collarbone and round breasts to the open air and the rough attention he had been showing her throat. He sucked one rosy nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his teeth while his free hand pinched and twisted the other. Lana let out a true moan; a sound laced with ardor that was only partially choked out from the angle he held her head in.   
Blackwall released her hair and rose, breathing heavily as he gripped her face between his palms.  
The look of guilt she dreaded was on his face.  
“Lana, I’m-I’m not worthy of you. As a Grey Warden, I cannot offer you any sort of future.”  
Not this time. The future be damned. The future held Corypheous. There was still the possibility that her future could end abruptly.  
“Shut up. You’re not taking this from me. Let’s live for this moment, the here and now.” Lana pushed on Blackwall’s shoulders, guiding him down to a bale of hay. She knelt before him, looking up at him between her lashes coyly.“Let me have this. Let me have you. What happens after this, we will figure out.”  
“I love you.” Blackwall blurted, pushing her hair from her face.  
“I love you, too.” Lana didn’t miss a beat. “I have loved you since Haven burned down around us, and you kissed me goodbye..but…now…” The Fire Mage gave him a rakish smile, her adventurous hands working his breeches open. Blackwall gave an encouraging sigh as she drew out his erection. “…Now, I believe you owe me… and I owe you.”  
Lana leaned down, laying a big, soft, kiss on the head of him and taking joy in the small buck of his hips. She drew the whole head of his member into her hot, wet, mouth; delighting in the shape of it as she sucked softly. Slowly, she took more of his length, bobbing up and down at a maddeningly measured pace. Caught in the passion of the moment, her hands almost absently went to her breasts, squeezing them. She moaned around her mouthful.  
“Maker above.” Blackwall groaned, pushing his hips up to force Lana to take all of him as he watched her touch herself. Lana choked for a moment, feeling his cock open the back of her throat. her body responded with instant, soaking, arousal. So good. He even tasted good.  
Blackwall eased his hips back down, freeing Lana’s throat. She immediately took a ragged breath through her nose,easing her mouth from around his cock with a wet slurp and leaving his tender flesh glistening with drool.   
Blackwall grabbed her wrists, his grip hard as he stood and yanked her up with him. As soon as she found her feet, he stripped her with a carnal urgency that actually surprised Lana.Within moments, she was completely bare before him, feeling exposed in the airy barn. But Blackwall didn’t leave her time to dwell on it.  
The Warden grabbed her behind her thighs with a grip firm enough to bruise, pulling her on top of him as he lay back on the hay. Now straddling him, Lana reached down and found his cock, stroking the head of it with her thumb and guiding it to her wet, eager, cunt. The source of her lust. She eased down, a passionate moan ripping through her as she felt the Warden’s impossibly perfect member part her opening and push inside.A tremulous, sharp cry left her. He was gloriously long, and deliciously thick; in one slow push he was spreading her open and filling her all at once. It hurt in the best way; being overwhelmed by him was bliss. She arced back, thrusting her breasts forward as she took him In completely. Would she even be able to move?   
Blackwall let out a stream of curses, holding her hips and pulling her down further; seeking her cervix and finding it. Lana emitted a sharp gasp, feeling the air leave her lungs as he ground against the deepest part of her.  
Finally. _Finally_. The word chased itself round and round in Lana’s head as the drowned in the ecstasy of being full of cock. She ground down against Blackwall’s pelvis, adjusting to the stinging sensation and rocking her hips. She felt her lover’s hard hold on her ease, and she was free to set a steady rhythm that generated endless waves of pleasure from both of them. She tilted her head back, arching deeply through her shoulders, lost in the bliss of her ride.  
breasts and squeezing her thighs. He was rapt in the joys of her body; the way she looked, the way she felt. All of it was so perfect. They fit together so well it was surreal; unlike any other woman he had ever lain with.   
Lana became more frantic, her fingertips digging into her thighs with white knuckles as her cries became louder and closer together. The rocking movement of her hips became quicker, desperate, as the heat in her belly spread throughout her entire body. She climaxed then, crying his name, and riding the thrill of her ultimate pleasure as it consumed her like a wildfire.  
Blackwall let out something between a savage snarl and a moan; her orgasm milking his cock; seeming to beg him to join her. But not yet. Somehow, he kept himself from flying over the brink with her.   
As Lana slowed, her climax leaving her exquisitely dazed, Blackwall took control.He flipped her onto her back, hissing as his cock hit the open air. He wrenched his breeches down to his ankles, and flipped his lover so she was on her forearms and knees. Now spread before him with her ass in the air, her slick wet cunt his for the taking. He grabbed her hips roughly and in one aggressive thrust, he was inside her again and relishing in the tight heat.   
“You’re mine.” He growled in a low tone, starting to thrust up into her mercilessly.  
Lana couldn’t answer, adrift in a sea of passion,but she agreed. Each pounding thrust hit home, ending in a soft sexual smack that pushed her forward. She braced herself, relishing in the ache and the throaty groans that rumbled forth from Blackwall. He was a demanding lover, and Lana was too happy to comply. She absorbed his lust as though she fed upon it, calling his name hoarsely between gasps and panted breaths, feeling herself come closer and closer to casting herself back into the embrace of another orgasm.  
This time, when Lana’s body sent her over the brink, Blackwall permitted himself to follow her. He spent himself inside of her, pulling her ass back against him with a true moan while she unraveled beneath him. The shared ecstasy of a mutual orgasm held its own breed of magic; it possessed them both, burning mana and leaving them drained.  
Both spent and trembling with the residual bliss of their lovemaking, they parted slowly. The Warden pulled his breeches back into place, before joining Lana to collapse in a heap on the bales of hay. Blackwall faced Lana, panting, his fingers gently pushing the hair from her face. Her bewitching green eyes, usually flickering with whatever thoughts danced like flames behind them were soft; pleasantly hazy with the smoky dreams their passion had left behind. He had finally had her; he had allowed himself to love this incredible woman, and been rewarded with her love in return.  
A stab of guilt wracked him. Blackwall struggled to fight it off, pulling Lana’s limp body to him. Joy filled him as she nuzzled her face against his neck, tucking herself against him.   
_Happiness you don’t deserve._  
No. He quashed the thought. He did deserve this.  
 _You’ll never be worthy, however._  
It didn’t matter. Lana was the only thing that mattered, and Lana loved him. She had told him so, and she never said anything she did not mean. He planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head, willing himself to succumb to the sleep his tired but satisfied body asked for.

Lana sighed deeply, gladly soaking in the warmth _her_ Warden offered. He loved her. He could be hers now, as she was apparently his. Inquisitor and Dragon of Ostwick, he had met her as both and withstood the heat of her flames. This was real. She fell headlong into sleep, knowing her rest would be short; with the impending sunrise Skyhold would wake and see her leaving Warden Blackwall’s embrace with hay in her hair. But who cared? She would gladly tell anyone who dared to ask where she and the Warden stood…because they stood there _together._

Inquisitor Trevelyan woke with the sun, shivering in the sharp dawn chill. Her naked body was covered in goose bumps. She felt prone, exposed, and vulnerable. All three emotions crashed into her before she was wholly conscious. She uncurled from the fetal position. Where was her Warden? When she had fallen asleep, she had been wrapped in his arms. Safe from any harm, and warm with love.  
“Blackwall?” She called out softly, rising from the hay. She received no response, so tried again at a slightly louder volume. “Blackwall, my love?”  
Still no response. Tears blurred her eyes, but she rubbed them away, focusing on dressing. She couldn’t panic yet. He may have just rose before her. Some of the toggles on her tunic were broken, leaving it gaping in places as a testament to Blackwall’s ardor. In a strange way, it confirmed that the night before hadn’t been a dream…that Blackwall had been with her when she dozed off.   
With careful steps, Lana descended the stairs, expecting to look up and see Blackwall. Perhaps with fresh brewed coffee and a kiss.   
The Barn was empty.  
“Blackwall?” Lana called, searching. The small stool he sometimes occupied was empty, a pipe sitting on the barrel positioned next to it. No sign of Blackwall.   
The wooden griffon her Warden had been working on so lovingly was nearly finished, covered in a light layer of sawdust. But no Warden worked on it now. What the griffon did have, however, was a folded scrap of parchment pinned to it. Lana nearly ripped it in half, her hands shaking as she unfolded it. As she read it, the letters began to blur:

_There is little I can say that will ease this pain. Just know that while it hurt to leave, it would’ve hurt more if I stayed.  
I am deeply sorry._

“What…what the fuck?” Lana felt tears roll down her cheeks. She considered shattering right there. Turning Orin and the horses loose, and burning the barn to the ground. Starting with the bales of hay that mere hours ago had been her favorite place in all of Thedas.  
Luckily for Skyhold, a scout broke The Fire Mage’s thoughts of arson.  
“Inquisitor?” The scout sounded hesitant, nearly flinching at the burning look Lana must have shot him. He held out a torn, crumpled, parchment. “Warden Blackwall has gone missing. Lady Leliana had me toss his room…we found this report. It looks like it was destined for Lady Nightingale’s hands, but did not make it.”  
Lana snatched the paper from the scout with a curt word of thanks. Usually, she wasn’t so sharp with the scouts…but the hay in her tangled hair, the tears on her cheeks, and her breasts threatening to burst from her ruined tunic added a certain sting to the situation. How things had changed.  
She scanned the report. It didn’t make any sense. Monray? Rainier? Assassination? Execution?  
“Please fetch Madame de Fer and The Iron Bull. Ask them to be ready to ride within the hour. Have Dorian sent to my quarters…we have to get to Val Royeaux.”  
It was all she had to work on…but first she needed to brush her hair and pull herself together.


	12. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone will appreciate your passion, your drive, or your love. They will retaliate when it is forced upon them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see?   
> I promise I'll return to the smut shortly. This portion of the romance just intrigues me. I see Lana taking the reins at last. I mean, I wanted to be mad, I really, truly, did...but it didn't work out that way.

Dorian found Lana managing the nug nest that was her hair at her desk; working as quickly as she could to remove all the snarls and hay she could before she was caught.  
“For shame, really.” Dorian’s voice rang clearly throughout the quarters. “I warned you he was trouble.”  
“You tried to set me up with him.” Lana snapped, raking the last of the barnyard flora from her now sleek mane and impatiently binding it up. “Or do you not recall that drunken house fire? You left me naked and alone and sent him to me?”  
“That was before I realized how right my first assumption was. What did you need from me?”  
“Just…” Lana turned to face him, still in her ripped and wrinkled clothes. Tears brimmed her already raw eyes. “…Dorian I need you to tell me to be tough about this. I don’t think I can. I need to be mad. I should be mad. He left me…he left me out there alone.”  
Dorian visibly softened,going to Lana’s dresser. “You have every reason to be mad. Why even go? Clearly the man made his choice, and do I need to say it? He didn’t choose you.”  
“I…I know! I know…but I just don’t know. I think I have to.” Lana wiped her eyes for the hundredth time. “ I have to…go I mean. I have a bad feeling, and I need to get to the bottom of this.He wouldn’t just leave me. He said…he said…”  
Dorian laid out her staff and her heavy enchanter robe out on the bed. His sigh was just as heavy as the robes. “I can guess what he said. The woman who looked a dragon in the face and ran it through wouldn’t be crying over anyone who did less than utter stanzas of undying love…But I’m starting to think he did not mean it. You need to consider that it may have just been a ploy to get you naked…I’m curious, was he at least fun in bed? He seems so...boring. Duty this and warden that.”  
“He was fine.” Lana sniffed, crossing her arms over herself as she went to fetch the fresh clothing. She didn’t want to think about the hollowness in her lower belly and the ache of her legs; memories of what she struggled to choke down as a mere evening romp in the hay. “This isn’t helping.”  
“Right… let me start over.” Dorian turned his back to Lana politely, smoothing his fingers over his chin in thought. “…you want to be mad…You should be mad.”  
Lana shrugged her coat into place, rifling the pockets. “Go on.”  
“Think about it. You open yourself up to him, and he rejects you over and over. You finally…” Dorian smirked, his tone shifting. “…open yourself to him one last time and he still chooses to blow you off and run.”  
“Don’t be gross.” Lana strapped her staff to her back.  
“I can’t help it.” Dorian continued. “And lets put our focus on this: he left you outside, alone. After he tells you he ‘loves you’. Anything could have happened. Would someone who loves you leave you in the open air?”  
“You’re right. He didn’t even have the decency to cover me up.” Lana’s cheeks were dry at last, and she was pulling herself together. The heat that had gone dormant, quelled by tears, was starting to rekindle. She strode to the stairs, setting herself in the direction of the main hall.  
Dorian was quick to follow her. “ I think Bull and I were right. I think Our Warden friend just wanted to taste what you had to offer. I think you were a conquest. I also think you should cut him off and move on. Cut yourself loose from him and whatever madness this report was so worth hiding from you over.”  
“I have to know what this is about. I won’t believe I was just some fling until I’ve heard him say it. I have to know why he’s done all of this.” Lana had decided, hand on the door, locking eyes with Dorian. She was full of strength now;her eyes as cold and sharp as a silverite dagger. This Lana was a nocked arrow. “And if it turns out I was a fling, and that you and Bull are right, I want to set him on fire. Are you coming?”  
Dorian wrapped an arm around Lana’s waist as they entered the bustling great hall. “I like you like this. Of course I’m coming. I wouldn’t miss this for anything. A fire in Val Royueax this time of year would be lovely.”

Vivienne and Bull met them in the yard.   
“My dear, what is going on?” Vivienne looked tired, but otherwise immaculate. If her posture on horseback was even a twitch below perfect nobody not raised in a court could tell.  
Lana took Orin’s reins from Bull and mounted. Her voice was flat as she responded, pointing the great hart in the proper direction. “Blackwall is missing. We have to find out why.”  
“Hah. I say good riddance.” Bull snorted, but set heels to the robust war horse he was astride anyway.  
“Lana wants revenge.” Dorian sang, following suit.  
“I’m actually going to agree with Bull…” Vivienne tried to begin, holding her own mount back.  
“-Then stay.” Lana’s interruption was like the crack of a whip. “You of all people, Madame de Fer, know how to decline a request.”  
“ Darling, I’m not the man who tossed you in the hay then didn’t stick around until morning.” Vivenne did not mince words; every feature of her face was cast in steel. “What I am is a concerned friend. I think I will stay to make sure you don’t burn down the marketplace, my dear.”  
“I apologize. Let us be off, then.” Lana did not so much as flinch beneath Vivenne’s harsh words. She couldn’t feel them. All she could feel was the heat radiating from her belly; writing within her like a viper.   
Beneath her, Orin felt the heat and began to paw, shrieking nervously. Lana urged him out of Skyhold and felt him explode into a dead run. They caught up with Bull easily; surpassing the Qunari and his slow but strong mount in a flurry of fresh snow, before thundering down the road that would take them to Val Royeaux.  
It simply couldn’t be a trick. Blackwall would never just leave her like that. All sound lost in the rush of wind Orin’s speed buffeted her with, Lana let her mind dance to a memory.  
Haven. In the yard. Blackwall opposite of her, sword in hand. She held up her staff, playful licks of fire leaping from it. On the butt of the staff, was an obsidian blade, freshly honed to a lethal edge.   
“Remember. No spells.” Blackwall was a soldier. His whole body reflected years of training and he watched Lana with the attentive air of an ambush predator.  
“I will try.” Lana’s focus was on her opponent. Not the sword in his hand, but his body. She watched for the twitch of a muscle; for his feet to shift. His grip on the sword’s hilt shifting ever so slightly could be the start of the fight. “But sometimes it just happens.”  
“Is it hard to control?” Blackwall asked, his stance relaxing.  
Lana did the same, cocking her head slightly at such an odd question. “No. Do you use a sword reflexively? If someone were to swing at you, you would probably rely on training and muscle memory and trust your body to respond, am I right?”  
“I…well I suppose so.” Blackwall favored her with a handsome half smile. Their sparring had become part exercise, and part discussion as of late. “is that how magic is for you?”  
Lana smiled in return, feeling the gesture reach her eyes.”Of course. It just happens. Muscle memory, instinct, and training.”  
“well, try not to burn the place-” Mid sentence, Blackwall lunged at Lana. His sword moved in a tight, controlled, downward arc. The blade flashed, blinding, in the light, and Lana had reacted without thinking.  
She blacked the attack with her staff, feeling the blade embed deep in the wood with a *thwack*! In the space of a heartbeat, Lana yanked back on her staff, twirling it upward and wrenching the blade from Blackwall’s hands. As the sword went up, it dislodged from the staff and was sent airborne; whirring far out of reach into the nearby scrub and rocks. Her staff swung back down and pointed at Blackwall, flames licking from it’s tip.  
Blackwall held up his hands, laughing a true, hearty, laugh.  
“I yield!” He insisted. “My Lady, I yield!”  
“I…I did it!” Lana triumphantly planted the blade of her staff into the snow, breathing heavily with the excitement. “Hah! I can’t believe that worked! I’d always thought about trying a block like that. My staff is made out of some serious wood I always figured it would work. If this had been a real fight, just know you’d be on fire right now!”  
“Maker’s balls! Lucky me!” Blackwall couldn’t help but chuckle as he went after his weapon, calling out to Lana as he searched for it. “I’ll admit you have improved since we started sparring.”  
“You’re an excellent teacher!” Lana joined in the search, brimming with excitement.  
They both spotted the blade at the same time while searching through brush. As they reached for it, they nearly touched.  
Lana looked up directly into his eyes; as silver and luminous as the full moon in fog. For a breathless moment, she was held, rapt within them. Like a moth to a candle, she was pulled by his light.  
“You’re an excellent soldier.” Blackwall breathed, seemingly as entranced in her as she was in him. His voice was heavy with sincerity. “I respect that.”

Tears stung Lana’s eyes in the cold wind. She leaned over Orin’s neck, clinging to his back as the memory’s grip on her eased. She couldn’t dwell on memories; she had too many of him taking hits meant for her in battle. Too many mornings in the stables and nights at camp. Since she had recruited the Warden, he had always been there.   
She had forgotten about going home, about returning to Ostwick. She had even let herself forget about being the Inquisitor at times, all to be lost in being near Blackwall.  
She couldn’t let go without knowing for sure; he wouldn’t spirit away a report and vanish simply because she was a ‘one night stand.’ He wouldn’t have denied the obvious pull between them for nothing.  
Lana slowed her pace as the city drew near. She held Orin’s head tight, allowing her comrades to catch up with her. All four mounts were lathered and breathing hard, the sound of four sets of clattering hooves on cobblestones announcing their arrival to the gathered throng in the marketplace square.  
A Gallows had been constructed on the north side of the square; a haunting reminder of Orlesians’ desire for blood. It stood out against the grand statuary as a menacing symbol of foreboding. The unnameable forces that had brought Lana to this place seemed to be born directly of the empty, waiting, noose that hung unmoving.  
A crowd that was too focused on the promise of violence to be bothered by a group of riders had begun to surround the base of the gallows; the chatter was loud and excited. Buzzards gathering about a fresh corpse, waiting for their turn. They blocked the view of the gibbet itself. An official sounding voice was demanding quiet and order.  
Lana dismounted quickly, and pushed her way through the ravenous sea of people, struggling to get a grip upon the full scene. Bull pushed ahead of her, his Qunari bulk clearing a path. In moments the sea of gawkers parted, and Bull pulled Lana ahead of him so she could at last see.  
A man she did not recognize kneeled beneath the noose while an Orlesian captain of the guard in a silver mask read from a parchment in sharp, poignant, barks. The man, who’s upper body sagged forward against his bound arms and the guards supporting him in the perfect picture of defeat, was wanted for murdering a whole noble family. The list included four young children, and all of their innocent retainers. The crowd writhed in anger, practically cheering when it was announced this stranger would be sentenced to a very public hanging.  
Before Lana could ponder how grotesque a crime it must have been that Val Royeaux- one of the jewels in Orlais’ crown-would constitute a public hanging that inspired such bloodlust, a man she did recognize took the stage.   
The Warden Blackwall stood before the mob, shouting to be heard above the growing din:  
“This man is innocent of any crimes before him!” He bellowed, arms up to gather attention. “Orders were given, and he followed them like any good solider! He should not die for that mistake!”  
“Then find me the man who gave the order!” Snapped the Orlesian captain, becoming irate. The air of the market square churned like a sea in a storm with rage. The crowd that had gathered to see a man hang was restless; several cried out in agreement with the guard, others demanded blood and justice in a wild chant.  
The Fire Mage in the crowd did not notice the change in mood around her. She did not recognize Bull’s massive gray hand hovering over the hilt of his weapon, nor the buzz of magic as Vivienne charged an ice spell. The mob threatened to erupt, but her world had zeroed in to one point, on one person.   
“Blackwall!” Lana screamed his name, head spinning to see him again. For a split second, she felt faint. She had meant to name to be a question, but as it emerged it became one sharp statement. A demand.  
Blackwall’s head jerked to the sound of her voice, but when he saw Lana in the throng his face drained of all color. He stared at her, a look of gaunt horror turning to some form of sunken resolution. He looked down and away, shaking his head and setting his jaw.  
“No. I am not Blackwall.” He began, fists clenching at his sides. He looked back out to the crowd at anywhere that was not Lana. “I never was Blackwall. Blackwall is dead and has been for years.”

“Oh my.” Dorian hissed, suddenly behind Lana. “So it begins. Lets hope we live to see how it ends.”  
The Orlesian captain snarled orders to waiting guards. The situation was about to dissolve into chaos. But on the gibbet, The warden went on.

“I assumed his name like a coward to hide from who I really am.” Blackwall’s voice began to shake, but he still managed to call over the crowd. “It’s over. I’m done hiding. I gave the order. The crime is mine. I am Thom Rainier!”  
A gasp ripped through the assembled throng. Lana’s stomach dropped. She knew that name. It had been all over even the Ostwick circle…the cold blooded Orlesian Captain for hire that slaughtered innocent children for coin.   
She felt her eyes widen at the realization, and let them go to… well it was,Thom Rainier, wasn’t it? They stared at each other from across a press of people that was on the brink of succumbing to the violence they threatened. She felt his heartbreak as keenly as her own. This time, as she locked eyes with him, instead of the inexplicable pull towards him, she felt only a rending pain. As though a cord between them had been pulled to its absolute most taut point; then snapped. 

Guards rushed him, grabbing him by the shoulders. Thom Rainier went limp in their grasp, and allowed himself to be drug away. The warrior she had thought she knew, was no longer fighting. Lana was rooted to the spot, frozen in time as the crowd finally realized its violent potential and took up whatever arms they could find. Torches blazed. Clubs swung. Bull’s shout in her ear broke the awful spell and pulled her to reality:  
“BOSS! We gotta get out of here!”  
Lana realized the guards were pushing the mob apart, shoving those who attacked with their heavy shields. Swords were being drawn. Shouts and screams shook the air. Someone cut the throat of the stranger originally sentenced to Rainer’s crime in a spray of blood.  
Bull lifted her bodily before she could move to respond, tossing her over his shoulder and hauling her out of the marketplace.  
“No!” Lana protested. “We need to go after him!”  
“Fuck that, Boss!” Bull laughed coldly. “Did you hear that? He played the whole damn inquisition!”  
Vivienne appeared before them. “Darling, The Iron Bull is right. I keep an apartment nearby. Let us rest and mull this over.”  
“That is the polite way of saying we’re going to take turns sating ‘I told you so’.” Dorian patted Lana’s exposed rump as she bounced on Bull’s shoulder.  
“We need to!” Lana repeated, radiating the heat of anger that her arms were locked to her sides. She struggled with all her might.  
“Ohhhh no.” Bull scolded, following Vivienne up a flight of stairs and tightening his grip around Lana. “You will burn something down.”  
Vivienne ushered them all inside a small but decadent apartment, locking the door and enchanting the lock. Bull ducked inside and tossed Lana onto a gilded chaise covered in silk pillows.   
Lana leapt to her feet, as agile as a cat, and made one quick dart for the door.   
Dorian jumped on her, dragging her down unceremoniously to the plush carpets with a shout:  
“Don’t you dare! We need to talk about this!”  
The cold candles in the room flared to life. The wicks blazed high, threatening the lavish drapery.  
“Lana!” Vivienne screamed, sending cold air to extinguish the flames. “Dorian, do something!”  
“That’s enough!” Dorian snarled, letting Lana up just enough to slap her across the cheek. The strike had enough force to send Lana’s head jerking to the side. “Get it together! You’re making an ass out of yourself!”  
Bull chuckled softly from the sofa. “The truth hurts.”  
Lana held her stinging cheek, raising to her knees but not meeting anyone’s gaze. “I…I am sorry, Vivienne. About the candles. I seem to have lost…my composure.”  
“More than just your composure, my dear. You’ve lost your whole mind.” Vivienne crossed her arms over her chest, one perfect eyebrow raised. “I forgive you. But, Dorian is right, we need to discuss this. We will not allow you to chase after this man solely because he was a good lay.” The inflection of the last two words Madame de fer spoke were colder than water under ice. They made Lana flinch.  
Dorian stood, dusting off his clothing. “Now apologize to me, Inquisitor, for forcing me to roll around on the rug with my clothes on.”  
Bull bit back another chuckle from across the room.  
Dorian rolled his eyes before offering Lana a hand back up.  
“Thank you, Dori.” Lana accepted his help. “And, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I lost myself so quickly.”  
“It’s been a day.” Dorian brushed off Lana’s robes, and guided her to the next ornate piece of orlesian furniture; a chair of delicate scroll work and velvet. “Now, to start, what just happened?”  
“The warden’s a fake.” Bull snorted, cutting directly to the point. “Viv, got any wine? I think we need wine.”  
“Madame de fer.” Vivienne corrected, already pouring. She gave the first glass to Lana. “And the Iron Bull is not wrong. The Warden, is, in fact, not the Warden. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’s been playing quite the game with us all along.”  
“The Inquisition has been harboring Thom Rainer.” Dorian shook his head, before knocking back the entire glass of wine Vivienne passed to him. “I am shocked Leliana let this one slip through. All this time-”  
“-All this time he’s fought for us.” Lana interjected, staring at the floor over the rim of her glass. “He has never once wavered.”  
“Because that would have blown his cover.” Dorian countered.   
“He went with us into the fade.” Lana took a deep drink of her wine, letting the liquid ease her shaking nerves before she continued. “He stood with us at Adamant. I think it was more than a cover…I think he was trying to atone.”  
“If he truly wished to atone, he would have gone to the law sooner than he did.” Vivienne topped off Lana’s glass, speaking gentler. “He almost allowed a man to die.”  
“His guilt caught up to him. That’s it.” Bull countered gruffly. “That does not erase the crimes he has committed, nor the pain he’s caused.”  
Lana shook her head, pausing to think before drinking deep and assembling her thoughts into words. “But he did got to the law. He does intend to truly atone for this crimes. He’s going to hang and he knows it. I have to go to him.” her feature took a hard set. She spoke again before she could be interrupted. “I deserve an explanation. We did harbor a criminal. I allowed him to play this game with me, my cause, and my people. I deserve to know why.”  
Dorian tsked softly under his breath. “See, when you were screaming like a deranged lunatic in the street you needed to see him, we assumed it was more personal than that.”  
“No this is personal.” Lana stiffened her spine into perfect posture, tilting her chin up ever so slightly. “I do not like to be toyed with.”  
“I think she can be trusted to go.” Vivienne spoke after a moment of consideration. “Thank you for striking her, Dorian. You knocked the love sickness right out of her.”

Lana washed her face, fixed her hair, and stepped out of Vivienne’s apartment. She strode into the eerily quiet night of the Val Royueax market. The mob was long gone; all that remained was the smell of smoke and general signs of disarray. A market cart was on its side, it’s wares still spilled onto the street like a gutted animal. Scorched shrubbery wore black scars and still smoldered here and there. But, the guards had cleared the streets of people. Nothing moved.  
As Lana approached the jail, the two guards snapped to attention.  
“Inquisitor, your military commander awaits inside.” One spoke in a clipped, accented tone; stepping aside to allow Lana passage.   
As Lana ducked inside the close, dank, passageway her mind reeled. Cullen was there? Had word traveled so quickly to Skyhold? As she came around a final corner, the passage opened up into a small room with a rough table over which Commander Cullen was leaning. An ominous barred gate made up the back wall. The official entrance to the jail. Torches cast flickering shadows along the old stone walls, making the commander look even more weary that usual as he looked up to greet Lana from whatever report he had spread before him.  
“Inquisitor?” Cullen mumbled her title as a question. He seemed surprised to see her.  
“I’m sure you’ve been brought up to speed as to the situation?” Lana asked crisply, masking her relief to see a familiar face behind cool formality.  
“Yes, I have.” Cullen stood upright, seemingly hesitant about what to say next. “I’m sorry, Inquisitor, but given…your, um, history with Black…I mean Rainier, I did not expect to see you.”  
Lana quelled a blush. That didn’t prove that all of Skyhold knew about the barn. That could have meant anything.  
“I wished to interrogate the prisoner myself. Demand an explanation.” Lana crossed her arms.  
“Alright. I can understand that. But, just let me say this. You don’t have to leave him here.” Cullen met her eyes, searching her.  
“What do you mean?”  
“We have connections.” Cullen went on. “If you so chose, we could have Rainier turned over to the inquisition so you could judge him yourself. Whether you crave mercy, or justice, you just say the word.”  
“Good to know. Thank you, Commander.” Lana strode to the barred gate, waiting patiently as Cullen withdrew a key and unlocked it.   
“Don’t thank me just yet.”

Lana began her descent into the bowels of the jail, like strolling down the gullet of some great, slothful, beast. Behind her, the heavy barred gate squealed shut and latched. No where to go but down. She kept her chin tilted up, and her eyes lidded, focusing on her gait and posture as around her the stone walls became damp and a darkness as oppressive as the grave closed in. She resisted the urge to stoke the dwindling torches as she reached the jail proper; it seemed pointless to subject the contents of the cells that lined the walls of this final cavern to any more light. As though the darkness both in physical form as well as the spiritual menace that hung in the air would just swallow any additional illumination whole. The room was as silent as a tomb.  
She found Rainier with ease as he was the only prisoner. She had steeled herself for this moment, so she had thought. But seeing him huddled on the cold, wet, stone floor like an unwanted dog struck her. Stripped her of her resolve. She stood, staring at him noiselessly, letting the floodgates in her mind that had held back the many memories she had made of him in such a seemingly short time crash over her like a wave. His strength in battle was gone; he carried no weapon, nor wore no armor. His guard as down to be point of being nonexistent. It was a level of vulnerability she had never expected to find him in, and it made her want to fling open his cell and take him in her arms. Stroke his cheek. Lose herself all over again.   
Somehow, she held her composure. He was a criminal. He had earned this fate. She was here to demand why he had gotten her involved. No more. She couldn’t crack.  
“I didn’t take Blackwall’s life.” Rainier spoke in Blackwall’s voice. Lana jumped. She had been sure he hadn’t even known she was there. “I traded his death. He wanted me for the wardens, but there was an ambush.” Rainier didn’t look up as he spoke, but seemed to shrink back slightly from her stare as though he could hide behind the bars that separated them. “Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man. But, the man he was wouldn’t let another die in his place.”  
“Why did you lie to me?” The question tore from Lana before she could stop it. The words were heavy with poorly restrained hurt.   
“I never meant to lie to you.” Rainer was hollow, defeated, and empty. A stranger wearing the face of the man who had told Lana he loved her. “When I did, I couldn’t take it back. You weren’t supposed to find me. You were supposed to think I was gone. I don’t want you to see me like…like this.”  
“And that is better?” Lana’s voice began to rise in volume. The torches along the wall shot up in response. “You wanted me to think you had just left me? You would break my heart and call it better?”  
Something woke inside of Rainier. He rose to his feet, hands grabbing the bars and shaking them aggressively s he shouted: “Don’t you understand?! I gave the order to kill all of those people! Lord Callier, his family! His children! Innocent people! I lied to my men about what they were doing, and when it came to light I ran!” He jerked away from the bars, turning his back to her before the tears that had begun to glaze his eyes could threaten to break free. “Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man. But I am not. I’m a murderer, a traitor, and a monster.”  
Lana backed away. The torches died back down, almost popping out completely to leave them in the dark with his words.   
“Wouldn’t you be happier thinking I was a nobleman?” Rainier continued, his voice small and quiet, barely audible. “ Or a Grey Warden, instead of this? I tried to save you the pain of learning the truth…that I am a lie. That you loved a lie.”  
“What we had was not a lie. What I had with you was very real. I know you feel it to, otherwise you wouldn’t have said it out loud.” Lana whispered mournfully in return, somehow finding her voice. “Why didn’t you just tell me? No man who stands next to his allies in battle as you did is completely without goodness within him.”  
“I tried. At the storm coast…I wanted to explain properly why I could not be with you. I wanted to tell you the truth. But, when you found Blackwall’s badge, I lost my nerve.” Rainier sagged back onto the floor of his cell. “No matter how much I ache for you, what I am and what I have done…we cannot be.”  
Swiftly, and before Rainier could protest, Lana moved toward his cell and crouched down to reach between the bars and gently brush his hair behind his ear with her fingers.  
Rainier flinched away as though burned.  
“No.” Lana whimpered, feeling her own eyes burn with hot tears as her hand reached towards him and pawed empty air. “What we had is real.You can atone for what you’ve done without taking something so dear away from me.”  
“I…I don’t think we have anything more to talk about.” Rainier shrank back against the far wall, taking refuge in the dark. “What is done, is done.”

Lana found herself back at the main gate, watching Cullen unlock it with a heavy leaden ball in her stomach and a fresh case of heart ache.   
“Commander, I want the prisoner turned over to the inquisition for my judgement. I want it done quietly.” She spoke in a low, dark, voice meant only for the commander.  
“I thought so.” Cullen nodded, guiding her further away from Rainier. “Leliana can make this work. She knows of a prisoner sentenced to hang who fits Rainier’s description…nobody would ever know.”  
Lana knew Rainier would hate it. The stink of the underworld was all over it; and another man would still be dying for him. But, she decided she did not care. He would be turned over to her for judgement as others had before. Her ruling would be just as good as an Orlesian court, and he would not go against it. It was the best way to resolve the Rainier saga.  
“Do it.” Lana spoke curtly. “Bring him to Skyhold and have him held in our cells until I return.”  
“I’m on it, Inquisitor. But, promise me one thing?” Cullen rested a friendly hand on her shoulder.  
“What is it?” Lana turned to face him.  
“Please think this through. He has fought hard and honestly for the inquisition, yes. But please think it through and be sure this is more than…more than a matter of the heart.”  
“I promise.” Lana Trevelyan put steel in her spine. She would need every vertebrae to enact the next part of this particular drama


End file.
